Clocked Again

The story this week begins and ends with a clock. Oh no! I hear you say. Did Mydangblog buy ANOTHER CLOCK?! Indeed, I did, and stop judging me. It wasn’t my fault, and the saga is complex and convoluted to say the least…

On Friday, Ken and I went to the antique market to stock my booth. I wanted to look around a bit, and Ken was tired from being awake, so he went to nap in the SUV while I had a browse. I was just about to leave when one of my former co-workers said, “Oh hey—Buddy on third has a clock he wants to show you.” I knew Ken was waiting in a hot car without water or treats, but it was a CLOCK. I booted it up to the third floor, where ‘Buddy’ (not his real name, obvs.), who also works there, was wandering around. When he saw me, his eyes lit up like a drug dealer when his favourite meth head comes around the corner. “Good to see you. I have something I want to show you,” he said, mysteriously, not realizing that I’d been given the “meth heads” up.

Me: Is it a clock?
Buddy: Yeah. It’s really nice. Look.
Me: Ooh, that IS nice. But if I bring another clock home, Ken will kill me.
Buddy: I’m only asking ten bucks.
Me: Sold.

Fortunately, the current clock in my bathroom had just stopped working, so when I crept out to the parking lot, carefully opened the door and slid the clock in the back, I had a ready excuse for Ken once we got home. “It’s nice,” he said. “But couldn’t you use one of your other, several many clocks instead of buying this one?”

“Very few of my 64 clocks work,” I reminded him.

So I put it on the shelf in my bathroom. It had a battery in it already and seemed to be keeping good time. On Saturday morning, I was getting ready for work and I looked up at the clock. “9:05,” I said to myself. “It’s keeping perfect time.” Then I squinted. And tilted my head. Then put on my reading glasses. What had at first seemed to be an abstract floral background turned out to be an English garden with a Romanesque folly…And then I did what any normal person would do—I called Ken (he was out walking the dog). “When you get back, come upstairs—I want to show you something funny. A few minutes later:

Ken: What is it?
Me: You know that clock I bought yesterday?
Ken: Yeah, it looks good up there on the shelf. The time looks right…
Me: Take a closer look. What’s wrong with it?
Ken (also squints): Uh, is it sideways?
Me: Yep.

Instead of it being 9:05, it was twenty after twelve. The clock was a quarter turn sideways. But even at a quarter turn sideways, it LOOKED like the right time. I guess Buddy looked at it, decided not to worry about it being completely sideways, set the time and figured “Meh—for ten bucks, no one’s gonna notice.” And he was almost right.

Ken: Huh. Do you want me to rotate it?
Me: Sure.

So he popped the clock face out of the case and put it to rights. I left for work. I got home a few hours later, and went up to my bathroom to retrieve a part-bottle of wine that I’d hidden there on Friday night (that’s another story), and I looked at the clock. It now said 6:05. Which would have been fine, except it was 4:05. I took it down off the shelf—the hour hand was now loosey-goosey, having fallen off the stem when Ken took the face out. And the whole thing was encased in plastic. There was no conceivable way to fix it, despite my best efforts, which involved looking at it questioningly and shaking it. Then I had a brainstorm—I had recently purchased an antique mantel clock that someone had converted into a battery-operated one, but the battery pack was broken. If I could only get the hands out of THIS clock, I could put the whole contraption in the antique one. But how? I would need a hammer. But if you know anything about me at all, you know that I keep a hammer in almost every room of the house. So I got out my bathroom hammer and broke the plastic casing—carefully of course, because I needed the hands intact.

And after some fiddling, I managed to recreate the entire assemblage in my antique mantel clock, so I am officially a clockematician, or whatever you call someone who cleverly combines two clocks into one, like a ticking Venn diagram, and I can say that with confidence because I am a clockematician. When I fixed my mantel clock on Saturday afternoon, which also involved finding a new second hand, which was red and I had to colour it black with a Sharpie to match, it was 4:30. I’ve been writing this post for a little over 40 minutes, so my mantel clock should say 5:12. Only time will tell…

P.S. It says 5:11. Close enough.

35 thoughts on “Clocked Again”

  1. Well, I’ll say for ten bucks it’s not a loss of epic proportions because you fixed the other clock. I see it as a win-win because you managed to fix something with parts out of something affordable. I did really concentrate on the clock face and I wonder why its weirdly sideways…lol. Like who would do that or was it a mistake? 🤔

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  2. I once had a pocket watch that was battery-operated, not wind-up, but it had a faux winding mechanism and that was also where the button to open the case was. So that was technically “the top” but the 3 was positioned right next to it. I didn’t mind, though. The important thing was carrying a pocket watch looked cool. When the battery died I took it to a jeweler who replaced it and also adjusted the face so the 12 was at the top. I didn’t mind but I was in another city before I realized he’d messed it up so the hands would stick and it no longer kept time correctly.
    This is all to say I’m impressed at your clockematician skills. And also any time I’m ready for bed I will describe myself as “tired from being awake”.

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  3. barbaramullenix's avatar barbaramullenix says:

    Yes. Tired of being awake is a new classic! I will now say that daily. All day. It’s funny that you keep a hammer in every room – I do that with reading glasses (actually, on every surface) and tiny jewlers screwdrivers, as everything that goes kablooey in my place needs little bitty repair tools.

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  4. As a certified clockematician, maybe you can answer this question I’ve wondered about since I noticed it on my grandparents’ living room clock when I was a kid. Why do clocks that use Roman numerals have four as “IIII” instead of the more proper “IV?” If there were any ancient Romans still alive today who were OCD, I’m pretty sure it would get their togas in a bunch…

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  7. A customer came in and we got to chatting about downsizing and our “collections” and how they didn’t know what to do with all their stuff and how hard it was and then they go (wait for it) “And I have a whole bunch of clocks…” LOL!

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  13. That’s brilliant! I mean I personally think it was $10.00 well spent for the story you wouldn’t have gotten out of it otherwise and the super beautiful now working antique you have!

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