Really, I did. And I’m pretty sure someday is one word *russumfussumeditorial* Anyway, I fished the watch right out because all my other watches had … allergies … and I needed to keep the watch that lived.
I’ve written about my watch allergies once before, but I can’t seem to find it in my archives. I really need to stop getting rid of old posts during tantrums. Anyway, what happens is my watches tend to randomly stop. And when I give them to someone else, they work fine. I’ve had a digital watch that blinked for no reason, and at least two manual watches that were ticking backwards … kind of like mine is right now.
The watches work fine once I put them down or give them away, and I once had a jug full of pseudo-zombie time pieces, so one Chinese doctor said I had too much iron in my blood. He said my inner-body metals were messing with the magnetism. The only cure was heavy pads and mercury, apparently.
He sold my dad an eerie green watch with strange writings on its face. It had a spinning metal dial, a rubber back panel, and a bright plastic strap. Also, it told time … and matched my uniform. It lasted for four years before it fell into a lake at Cataracts. At the time of falling, it was firmly attached to my hand. That was fun.
A friendly villager fished it out … literally … with a wooden raft and wire fishing pole … after my buddies dragged my soaked self to the shore. Sadly, I wasn’t in a t-shirt and there were no boys to see, so there.
Anyway, a while back, my mum bought me a watch. Actually, she bought it for my baby, but mine was digital and hers was prettier, so we exchanged. My watch – the one I gave her – was a Bench worth £40. The one I took was … not. Naturally, mum was not amused. But the watch proved quite popular, and a street vendor almost tried to grab it off me when I asked for new batteries. It’s such a pretty little thing.
Months later, the watch hasn’t died, and I love that its back side looks like a bracelet – no pun intended. Today, I dropped it in the toilet. After a long day that involved standing in the queues of three different banking halls, I felt pretty drained. One bank had a long line but really fast cashiers. Another bank had 14 counters, 2 tellers … and one of them was bitchy. The third ‘bank’ had an express counter, so I was in and out in minutes. God I hate banks.
Anyway, I got home dead exhausted and stopped by the John to … you know … John. I noticed some uniform that I’d soaked last night and forgotten about. The water was now an odd shade of purple, which is weird, because the uniform is white and blue.
I started to pull it out of the bucket, then remembered that my watch might get wet, so I took it off. Somewhere amid that process, I heard a desperate splash and … well … my hand went right in after it! I wasn’t giving up the watch that lived. Ala! I dried the parts I could see, placed it on the window sill, and waited.
Half an hour later, the screen was all misty but the watch was alive, so I pried the back open and tried to pull out the winding thingie.
That didn’t work.
I tried again. Is it supposed to bend like that? Oopsie!
I ignored the now warped wires and squeezed in a cotton bud to clean the window. It got pretty clean, though some fluff wrapped round the hour hand. I reassembled the watch, glad to see it was still working, and tried to bend the warped winding thingie back into shape. Er … well … it sort of ended up in three separate pieces … with leftovers … like this.
Still, the glass was clean, the hands were moving, and if I gripped the wire with my nails, I could still set the time. I grinned, updated Facebook, and continued with my day.
A short while later, I glanced at my wrist out of habit. It was ticking backwards. Sigh. Another one bites the … um … there must be some appropriate phrase that deals with toilet water. I’ll think about it later. In the meantime, goodbye pretty watch. You have served me well.
Mum, any more where that came from?