Pardon Me, Do You Have the Time?

I love clocks. In fact, I would venture to say there is not a single spot in the House on the Corner that does not have direct sight-line to the correct time. We have big clocks, little clocks, and wind-up chicken clocks, and I love 'em all.

Except for two weekends out of the year. Then I'm not so crazy about my clocks. You know the days I'm talking about--curse you Daylight Savings Time and your pseudo-chronology.

Fortunately, I married the right man. Even though we are in the throes of tax season Husband spent a nice chunk of Saturday night springing forward the clocks in the kitchen (three of them), bathroom (four), living room and dining room (one each), television room (one each for TV and DVD plus a wall clock), vehicles (times two), and bedrooms (let's see, maybe eight? Nine?). Then he went to his mother's house and repeated the process with her clocks. Both of them.

The only timekeeper he missed was in my office, where I have a radio-controlled nuclear clock that is accurate to the nth degree of second-hood. See it in the picture? It's accurate all right, except that I took the picture at 10:03.32 a.m. Whoops. And the buttons are of no help whatsoever in figuring out how to change the hour, and I threw away the manual in the Great Clean-up of 2012.

You'll excuse me if I'm an hour late to all my meetings this year. I have no idea what time it is.