the mystery

now playing: secret / audio adrenaline from bloom

Sitting here ripping cds that we thought had been killed by abuse. Musicmatch works wonder. It's worth a shot, I've recovered well over 20 cds that I thought I'd have to buy again. I'm all for paying if you're going to use a whole albums worth of songs, but shoot, i'm not all for paying twice! anyway...

Ah yes, THE MYSTERY OF ThE bAtHrOoM cLoCk . In most bathrooms, you will find a time peice of some sort, a little clock or something, to remind occupants of the fact that they must be at work in a certain amount of time. Phrases bandied about regarding such a time piece may include "bane of my existence" or "clock from H.E.Double Hell, if you don't mind the expression." But, I digress. The fact is, these clocks are necessary. They remind us of where we need to be, and when.
Ah, but I had used the word mystery, hadn't I? And a mystery in deed it was a few mornings ago when I stumbled into the bathroom for my morning rituals (those are a mystery too, but we won't get into them... three things: rain dance, animal sacrifice, and tooth paste. Ask no questions.) Where was I? Oh yeah... so, I stumble into the bathroom, and look at the clock. And, seeing the time as 7:55, and needing to be out by 8, I panic. I hop through the shower, towel off (wet-head... take off hoser), and run out so as to clear the way for whoever else needed to make their way through. As I grabbed my cup of coffee (in the kitchen, of course... why would we have a coffee pot in the bathro... wait a second! Why WOULDN'T we have a coffee pot in the bathroom? That's brilliant... now back to the story), I looked at the time on the microwave. And I says, "que?" Now, for those of you who "no speaka spanish," that roughly translates to "What the heck?!" The clock read 7:45. The bathroom clock read 8:05 when i was done. Where had the 20 minutes gone? Had I developed time travel? For a minute there, i thought for sure I was about to be rich.
Unfortunately, reality always has to kick in. At that point in the morning, I remembered something my mom had mentioned once. About needing to have some way to psych herself into being ready on time. Apparently, that clock was her way. See, she set it forward 20 minutes. That way, she'd look at it, and feel the urgency of having to get ready. "What a brilliant plan," I thought to myself, "and she even managed to fool me in the process!"
Fair enough, right? Some people need a method by which to motivate themselves. Its all good. I would prefer bullhorns and drill sargeants, but maybe I respond best to external stimuli, and she to internal. But, I thought i ought to check on the results. So, i asked her. Possibly not the most objective method ever used, but hey -- it works for me. And yeah, lo and behold, it has NO IMPACT on her morning. Sure, it may make me rush around like an idiot, but not her. See, here's the problem: men, we can trick ourselves like that -- we're too dumb to notice. Not women tho... at least, not this woman. She looks at in, and clues in to the twenty minutes, and works it all out in her head, so that she's as cool as jello, realizing she has twenty minutes more than the clock claims. ARGH! Moral of the story: You can do your best to try to psych yourself into morning prepared-ness. But mostly, you'll just freak someone else out.


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