No Time Left for You

walsh, is a watch-wearer.

i am not.

walsh is intrigued.

"you don't wear a watch," he asks. i toss off an nah, but when i turn from the keyboard and look, he's got his i really don't get you look about him.

granted, i'm used to seeing that look—not only from walsh—there is andy, my husband, and my brother on occasion, even though he quickly covers it up so he doesn't hurt my feelings... but walsh over not wearing a watch? and now you are thinking to yourself—
is this really a post?

well yeh. it is.... slow post day. sit down and scroll.

"what you wear one?" i shoot back.

"well yeah" so its totally clear who the freak is.... "how do you know what time it is?"

"i always know about what time it is, besides, since you have a watch, i automatically know what time it is. and if you aren't there, there is always a clock, somewhere."

"ok, but what if you are in an area where there isn't a clock around," he persists.

"what, you find someone that has a watch and you ask them what time it is," i'm befuddled. this subject both fascinates and repels walsh. and now i'm intrigued by how unfathomable it seemed to walsh. total failure of imagination over the carelessness of time. it seemed like he had just discovered a major character flaw of mine.

"you ask them... and they just tell you?"

"yeh. it makes them feel good: 'excuse me, would you be able to tell me the time? what a beautiful timepiece—thank you so much!'"

"jackball..." and we laugh. "...you've never worn a watch?"

"no, i used to wear a watch. but then, when i worked my first start-up, i was really concerned about time....how much time it took to design an ad, a brochure, a whatever. i was obsessed with timing myself, being better and doing more with time. then i started to noticed whenever i looked at my watch, my tummy would hurt. then it got to the point where my wrist would ached right where the watch was. one day i took the watch off and i felt better. i decided not to wear one anymore."

"and you haven't since."

"yep."

and then there was silence as we returned to hacking away at our keyboards. how long the silence lasted, i couldn't tell you. i'm not the watch-wearer. i wonder if walsh could tell you....

Let not the sands of time get in your lunch. ~Author Unknown