The little doohicky that slides over the end of the watch band broke first. I replaced it with an elastic hair tie wrapped around the band four times because I am clever and cheap and have long hair. A week later I rolled over in my sleep and the watch went flying off my wrist, face first into the wall. The wristband had broken through and through, so there was no fixing this. The wristwatch is all one piece, so I couldn’t buy a replacement band. Tape wouldn’t hold and I couldn’t meld the plastic back together with laser vision because I am not Superman. (Not that I would tell you if I were.)
This means that this week I haven’t been wearing a watch for the first time this century (and probably a good 10 years before that too). Instead, I’ve been experiencing time in the way most human beings experienced time before Timex, fluid and slightly unknowable instead of chopped into identical, measurable pieces. What time is it? I don’t precisely know, but I can guess within an error margin of plus or minus two hours.
The fact that there is an official time agreed upon by most of humanity is a relatively new phenomena. As I understand it, synched time zones only arrived with the railroads. It was hard to make up schedules of arrival and departure times if every city had their own time, so we all got down with Greenwich Mean Time. Before then, your schedule probably had more to do with sunrise, sunset and noon than it did with the tick, tick, ticking of a machine. Because really, when the power goes out it’s hard to do anything after sunset. Candles are not that bright, y’all.
My watch has been such a part of me that I was unaware of how much it affects my perception of time. I stayed up late reading a book last week and wondered if it was time for me to go to bed or not. I looked at my wrist for the time and my carpal bones were completely unhelpful. How late was it? How late did it feel? Should I go to bed, or was it still too early for that? I wasn’t that tired, but if I wanted to at least attempt to keep my body on a routine schedule, I should try to go to sleep at a certain time. I wasn’t used to making this decision by listening to my body instead of knowing how many minutes past midnight it was. If I woke up in the middle of the night, I’d feel totally disoriented if I couldn’t see what time it was. How would I know how many hours I had left to sleep? How could people live with that kind of uncertainty?!
Another night I was watching a TV show (which I was able to watch at the right time because I checked the clock on my computer). At one of the commercial breaks I tried to check the time to see how long we had left to wrap up the plot. Twenty minutes? Thirty? I didn’t know! I had to just go with it, not knowing exactly what act we were in and how long it would take for that lady to crash onto the top of a taxi like she did at the beginning before we flashed back.
I also depend on my watch to track my hours when I work on a client’s project. You can’t bill by the hour if you don’t know the hour. I found myself trying to look at my wrist for the date and the time whenever I stopped or started because I couldn’t be bothered to use a couple neurons in my brain to REMEMBER the date. I usually look at my watch each time instead of committing it to memory. I mean, it changes every day, right? Why bother?
Of course, some things I don’t need a watch to remember. All of these things have to do with cats. Cats know when it’s six o’clock in the morning because that’s when it’s time for them to scratch at the door or walk on your face to remind you to feed them, bitch, NOW! And I know it’s after nine o’clock at night as I write this, because that’s the block of time that has been set aside for cuddling kitties. The claws tearing at my sweater are letting me know how late I am for my appointment with the couch. Cats don’t need wristwatches. They are organic alarm clocks.
While there is some appeal to viewing time as malleable, there’s no way I’d ever get rid of the way we measure time. I like to arrive at appointments at the same moment someone is expecting me to be there. I like to know when my TV shows are broadcast so I can actually watch them. Different cultures have different views on punctuality though. I believe that in some countries you can show up an hour late to something and it’s not really a big deal.
I would not last long in these countries.
All of which is to say time is kind of weird, eh? (And I’m not even getting into what happens to it when you travel near the speed of light.) I must admit that I like my time split into seconds and grouped into minutes. There is a part of me that thinks I should be more Harlequin and less Ticktockman, but there is another part of me that says, “OMG, do you know what time it is?! It’s time to get a new watch!!”
So I did. Just in time.
This is the first blog post that I’ve ever read which referenced a Harlan Ellison story. Well done.
I’m wearing the gray version of the same watch right now. It’s my second. The first one died after 4 years, and I tried to go without, but it only took me one day to go pay *full price* (gasp!) for its replacement.
I am watch-dependent. I even use the chronometer, timers, and alarms.
If time’s going to march on, I wanna know about it.
I had the exact same watch, and the exact same thing happened to mine. [Also, I thought I was the only person in the world who wore a watch to bed! (I like being able to check the time when I wake up in the middle of the night, which Timex’s Indiglo function makes even more convenient.)]
@Sarah – I only take off my watch when I shower. It’s harder to lose that way 🙂
I own(ed) the same watch. Yep, my strap broke too!!
Dude. Your phone has a clock in it. I know this because I haven’t worn a watch the last decade because I carry my phone every where instead. 🙂
@Shannon – I can’t wear my phone on my wrist (yet, anyway). I like being able to glance at it instead of pulling out my phone all the time.
Although I rarely wear a watch, I too am very time dependant. At night I can see my glowing alarm clock, when I am working the time is down on the bottom right of my computer screen, in the kitchen there is a wall clock, out and about I have my phone or (sometimes) my watch.
I used to occasionally watch Australian Big Brother (oh, the shame) and I thought one of the worst things about being locked in the BB house is that they don’t ever let you know what time it is. How do you know when to eat? When to sleep? Listening to your body clock is for hippies.
I bet I could quilt you a band with a velcro closure that would work!
I have an alarm cat that seems to be set at 5 a.m. Alaska time. I keep looking for his snooze button, but haven’t found it yet.
I have to tell you, I just finished reading “Half-assed”. I found it inciteful, ispirational & frequently laugh out loud funny. I loved your wit & attitude.
I may not wear my phone on my wrist, but it’s always by my side, even in bed (because I use the alarm function as my alarm clock… started doing that when the digital clock we had started gaining time).
I stopped wearing a watch I don’t know how many years ago, when the last one broke and I realized it was pointless to replace it when I always had my phone with me — and when I was working at the computer the time was always displaced in the lower right corner.
I also found in the past when I was between watches (I used to prefer delicate, feminine, analog styles, so would have to pick out one myself, which might take a week or two), that I’d get to be a pretty good judge of elapsed time. Plus, I also learned where all the reliable clocks were that I might run into during the course of my day.
Heck, the TV even has a built-in clock. We stopped our cable, but watch via one of those digital boxes that hooks up to an antenna — and the digital box displays the time whenver we change the channel.
Still, we also have clocks in the kitchen (analog on the wall, digital on the microwave) and living room. And since my old car’s speedometer doesn’t work most of the time, I always have my GPS unit on, and it has a clock, as well.
The only time I seem to be at a loss is when I’m airborne and have turned my phone off as instructed.
Um, make that “displayed in the lower right corner,” not “displaced!” LOL
I stopped wearing a watch the first summer after I had moved to a significantly warmer climate. The sweating under the band was unbearable. I have since used my phone, however I do find at times it is kind of nice not to know. I am a school librarian 10 months of the year. In schools we are surrounded by clocks and those helpful bells which let us know in their Pavlovian way that it is time to dash off to another room for some learnin’ in a different subject. We also spend a chunk of time each day planning for what exactly we will be doing in two weeks, two months, and perhaps next school year. In the summertime therefore I kind of like not knowing what day or time it is.
Same exact watch, same story. I even emailed the company and expressed my anger. Of course they never responded. It just goes to show how wasteful our society is. How hard would it be for them to have replacement bands? But they don’t because when the watch breaks, you’ll have to buy another one. I loved the sleek design, but I won’t buy another watch from them.
Did previously commenting on this post jinx me?
My watch band broke this morning. I emailed customer service asking for advice.
Heartbreaking. I don’t think I should buy another if the bands cannot hold up, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE the many functions.
Why do so many women’s watches seem lobotomized compared to men’s?
My wrist is too small for most men’s watch bands (even at their smallest settings) or I would just wear those.