The compulsive clock watching also occurs when one or more of my daughters visits. I quickly note the time so I can later say, "I just knew something was up." (Only rarely has such a feeling prompted me to actually call the one I was feeling funky about thankfully.) Sometimes the nighttime clock watching occurs when I awake with a funky feeling and am absolutely positive one of my daughters - or grandsons or siblings or parents - is hurt or sick or being visited by a bogeyman of some scary sort. the "witching hour," per too many scary movies and my youngest daughter - that potty run is ran especially fast and usually ends with me pouncing back into bed as quick as can be so anything that might reside under my bed won't grab me and pull me down there with it or lick my tootsies like in the spooky stories shared by my slumber party gal pals decades ago. If I glance at the digital clock on the dresser and the time is between 3 a.m. Especially if I've awakened because I need to make a quick potty run. I also watch the clock when I awake in the middle of the night. Yes, I do realize it would be too late if that truly was the case, but again, ya never know and it's best to be prepared. Similarly, when I hear menacing sounds inside my home, the shake, rattle and hum sounds from my - as one friend calls it - Stephen King boiler, I quickly glance at the clock so I know the precise time I knew the house was gonna blow. I confirm the time on the clock just in case I end up being interrogated by some in-your-face detective - or in-your-face reporter - questioning the exact moment I heard the shake, rattle and hum that preceded the irrefutable proof by explosion that my next-door neighbor was playing Walter White. Perhaps other perfectly balanced folks watch the clock in the very same ways.įor instance, when I hear odd noises outside my home, something unusually loud or menacing in my neighborhood, my first instinct is to look at the clock.
No, though I've served my time in such positions, my current compulsive clock watching is of a less regular - albeit still compulsive - sort.Ī sort that sometimes makes me believe I just might be a little off balance. so I can exit my cubicle and enter my real world. I admit it: I'm a compulsive clock-watcher.Īs a freelance writer working from home, I don't watch the clock in the sense that I eye the hour hand as it makes its egregiously slow move from 8 a.m.