Inktober Day 14 prompt- Clock
I was racing against time when I was under the deluded notion that I could cope with the demands of writing a piece everyday for an entire month based solely on prompts. Caught up with multiple other things, I decided to break the break I seemed to have inadvertently and subconsciously taken from regular writing and I'm back, armed with interesting ideas.
I'm a stickler for punctuality and it really annoys me when I find that someone disrespects my time by being tardy on more than most occasions. While my maternal grandmother is an extreme on the better end of the spectrum, my father and sister drive me up the wall with their inability to commit themselves to a particular date and time.
Every time we decide to hang out at one of Chennai's many, many malls, book stores, restaurants or any other place we find interesting enough, some quarrel or another breaks out. This has become such a routine occurrence that it is almost habitual and therefore surprising when we manage to step outside without a squabble. The recurring theme in these catfights is my annoyance at being made to wait for an eternity before we leave, simply because my sister would have decided to wake up from her deep slumber only after I'm all set to go. Her getting dressed in an elaborate process, with her facing many life- threatening dilemmas such as what to wear and how to tie up her not-so-long locks of hair. My annoyance is exacerbated by the fact that the duration I'm made to wait is long enough to annoy me but not so long that I can get something else done in the meanwhile.
What is worst, perhaps, is the fact that all this pandemonium happens inspite of our having five clocks put up on various walls of the house, each set to a different time. The ones opposite our dining table and in my room are a good twenty and fifteen minutes ahead of real time. The other clocks vary from time to time depending upon the whims of our driver who fixes them every time they stop but they're all also usually ahead in time.
Now, my sister has this alarm clock sort of contraption at her desk and this thing displays the right time and never stops functioning or seem to have any defaults in it whatsoever. So it beats me, how she fails to be punctual.
Having read about the way the clocks are at home, I'm quite sure you're a little weirded out by this obsessive need to have multiple ones around, and have each set ahead of real time. I'm not entirely sure as to the origins of this phenomenon, but I can tell you that it's been the case since as far back in time as I can recall.
Over the years the clocks in my room have changed along with my changing sensibilities of aesthetics. During my years of primary school, I had this ridiculously colourful device. It was basically a white circle filled with numbers in the colour gradients of a rainbow and with hands in some other pretty monstrous shades. Fast forward to high school when I was into all things wooden and green and everything, I had a clock that resonated with these preferences. Now, I have a blue and silver one looming over me, and seeming to serve as a constant reminder that time flies past and it won't be long before I'm ten years older and thinking about what a stupid idea it was to have chosen to buy it at the store.
In all honesty, though, I really hope I don't morph into such a boring adult.
I'm a stickler for punctuality and it really annoys me when I find that someone disrespects my time by being tardy on more than most occasions. While my maternal grandmother is an extreme on the better end of the spectrum, my father and sister drive me up the wall with their inability to commit themselves to a particular date and time.
Every time we decide to hang out at one of Chennai's many, many malls, book stores, restaurants or any other place we find interesting enough, some quarrel or another breaks out. This has become such a routine occurrence that it is almost habitual and therefore surprising when we manage to step outside without a squabble. The recurring theme in these catfights is my annoyance at being made to wait for an eternity before we leave, simply because my sister would have decided to wake up from her deep slumber only after I'm all set to go. Her getting dressed in an elaborate process, with her facing many life- threatening dilemmas such as what to wear and how to tie up her not-so-long locks of hair. My annoyance is exacerbated by the fact that the duration I'm made to wait is long enough to annoy me but not so long that I can get something else done in the meanwhile.
What is worst, perhaps, is the fact that all this pandemonium happens inspite of our having five clocks put up on various walls of the house, each set to a different time. The ones opposite our dining table and in my room are a good twenty and fifteen minutes ahead of real time. The other clocks vary from time to time depending upon the whims of our driver who fixes them every time they stop but they're all also usually ahead in time.
Now, my sister has this alarm clock sort of contraption at her desk and this thing displays the right time and never stops functioning or seem to have any defaults in it whatsoever. So it beats me, how she fails to be punctual.
Having read about the way the clocks are at home, I'm quite sure you're a little weirded out by this obsessive need to have multiple ones around, and have each set ahead of real time. I'm not entirely sure as to the origins of this phenomenon, but I can tell you that it's been the case since as far back in time as I can recall.
Over the years the clocks in my room have changed along with my changing sensibilities of aesthetics. During my years of primary school, I had this ridiculously colourful device. It was basically a white circle filled with numbers in the colour gradients of a rainbow and with hands in some other pretty monstrous shades. Fast forward to high school when I was into all things wooden and green and everything, I had a clock that resonated with these preferences. Now, I have a blue and silver one looming over me, and seeming to serve as a constant reminder that time flies past and it won't be long before I'm ten years older and thinking about what a stupid idea it was to have chosen to buy it at the store.
In all honesty, though, I really hope I don't morph into such a boring adult.
Comments
Post a Comment