The Missing Clock

We are all such creatures of habit. Some habits are really good habits that help us be more efficient by doing routine things quickly without much thought.

Some habits are self-defeating. An example of a bad habit I’m trying to break: touching my face. The coronavirus scare has made me aware of how much I touch my face, rub my eyes and such. I’m trying to break that habit.

The funny thing about a lot of habits, like touching our faces, is that more likely than not, we just aren’t aware how much we do them. And this is where the missing clock comes in to my post.

We have been in the process of clearing out the house. A renowned stager has given us advice, which we took to heart, on how to best show the house for sale. So, we moved probably about a third of our stuff out and into storage. This includes the clock.

The Metro Clock

It’s not just any clock. It’s a huge, heavy, monstrous thing that sat up on top of a meta bookcase. The clock was visible on most of the main floor.

But the clock had to go. Why? Well, clocks demand our attention. We look at them. And this particularly massive clock that had very bright lights inside of it refused to be ignored. It commanded attention.

We aren’t selling the clock. We’re selling the view outside the wall of windows near where the clock was located. We want potential buyers to see the wall of windows and the beautiful wooded view outside, not the clock. So, the clock had to go.

Why a post about a missing clock? Well, I knew I looked at the clock a lot, but I had no idea how much we used the clock on a daily basis. Viewing the time from this clock was an unsung habit that made life a little easier.

Now that the clock is gone, I still look up to see it–maybe a dozen times a day. Now, I know the clock is not there, but I still look to see it.