The Clock Stops Here

Battery-Controlled Mornings
RIP Wrist Watch

At precisely 6:02 every morning, you are awakened by the ear-piercing and heart-jumping buzz of your alarm clock. You press your snooze button which is set at 5-minute intervals twice before rising out of bed. Sleepy-eyed, you feel the ground for your slippers which are placed in the exact same spot every night. You descend from your bed, open your bedroom door and walk straight to the kitchen where you fill up your kettle with 3/4 water, turn on your stove and place the kettle on it. You have approximately 12 minutes to shower, shave and dress before you're back in the kitchen to make your cup of tea.

You walk to your washroom, plug in your electric shaver on the counter and turn on the water in your shower. You have about 45 seconds to urinate, wash your hands and shave before your mirror gets steamy. You grab your toothbrush and jump in the shower. You rinse yourself quickly, wash your face first and then brush the top of your teeth for 30 strokes and the bottom for another 30 strokes. You put your toothbrush down and reach for the bodywash. You turn the bottle upside down, pour a big goop of your lavender liquid soap directly into the middle of your sponge and cover the remaining surface of it in swirls by moving in a clock-wise motion. You wash yourself, neck first, chest, left arm, right arm, left leg, left foot, right leg, right foot, back and leave your private parts for last. You rinse the soap from your body, turn the water off, grab your towel, dry yourself and jump out of the shower. Before you leave the washroom, you flush the toilet, wash your hands again, put deodorant on, apply moisturizer to your skin and splash aftershave lotion on your face and neck. You walk back to your bedroom, make your bed, get dressed (thankfully you set your clothes out last night after you checked the weather report), put your wrist watch on and smile cause you beat the clock. Your primping routine took 11 minutes today.

You walk back to the kitchen, get your favourite Souvenir from Newfoundland cup, grab a pomegranate and mint tea bag and pour yourself a cup of tea. As it steeps, you take your lunch that you packed last night out of the fridge, pack it up for work, pop two slices of whole-wheat bread in the toaster for breakfast and check on the colouring of your tea. It's perfectly maroon colour this morning. Your toast is ready. Lemon jam or peanut bread spread? You decide on lemon jam. Your check the clock and have approximately 7 minutes to eat breakfast, get dressed and grab the 6:50 bus to the subway.

You walk out the door, but have to go back because you forgot your umbrella. You have to move fast because you're losing seconds and can possibly risk missing the bus. Mission accomplished. You leave your house and head to the bus stop.

En route, the minute clock of your wrist watch hits 6:47 and stops. You tap your wrist watch but nothing is clicking. You see the usual suspects at the bus stop so know you haven't missed the bus. You check your watch again to see if it's working, but it's surely dead. The bus arrives and it's packed. You join the queue and attempt to file onto it, but the doors of the bus start to close. You push the person ahead of you who makes it onto the bus, but the doors close as soon as you get to them.

You're going to be late for work. You turn to ask the first person you see behind you for the time, but there's no one there. You stand alone at the bus stop. The minutes feel like hours.

Out of thin air, you hear a voice say, "It's the beginning of the end." You look around you and no one is there.

You look at your wrist watch out of habit and the time is still 6:47.

~ Miss Mo Rose