Triage

Some cynics out there might decry today's overriding concern. After all, I'm unemployed, out on a limb, divorced but, I did shave today.

My source of frustration is my alarm clock. Since I'm exposing these wounds to the air, I'll mention my kitchen timer as well. My Ikea alarm brick (You've seen them. Small brick with hard rubber casing.) jumped into a new time modality when Daylight Saving kicked in. I have reasoned with it but it will not return to 12/12.

Now, don't get me wrong, I support our troops. Military time on my alarm clock is the wrong set of marching orders for me. Perhaps I could rebrand my time as European, but it's not a natural way of thinking for me. I'm not an insomniac but I might become one as I see the day drone on into 19:52, 21:34. What will happen is my free-thinking clock decides to adopt a weekly, rather than a daily, timeframe? 137:40? Can't abide that.

Sorry, but I didn't mean to tease you about my kitchen timer. It's doing a good job and is willing to perform non-kitchen tasks. It's just that it's overly insistent about getting my attention. After all, isn't that what we want? To be pulled back into what we want to accomplish?

Even if I were swamped with love and mad in work, I'd still be concerned about my friends who help me keep time. Why are they trying to change me? Does the machine world know something that I don't?