Revenge of Time

Yesterday I had the task of taking umpteen bags of rubbish to the re-cycling centre. They had been lying around for some time as a monument to procrastination. But I have found the recycling centre and the last set of reasons for not taking them disappeared.

I was under instructions to take 'that' clock. I had grown fond of 'that' clock. It was the biggest which Ikea could supply and dominated our last kitchen. I also had one in my office. They formed a social service by informing folks some distance away what the time was. They were also a reminder of how much I needed to improve my time management. Big Monster Time.

There was no place for it in our new kitchen; or, indeed, anywhere else in the house. It has been replaced by the one in the photo.

So I filled the car with all sorts of plastic bags, climbed in and off I went. Without 'that' clock. So I returned and placed it in the passenger seat for this last journey.

The recycle centre is a very tidy place. There are containers for all sorts of things - general, green, electrical (small), wood, metal and so on. So I spent some time going to various locations deposited the contents of my bags. Sometimes, I just deposited the bag. Some learning there about putting things in bags corresponding to recycling requirements.

I felt virtuous climbing into my car and setting off. Job well done. 'That' clock was still in the passenger seat so I returned. I placed it in general thinking that there should be a skip for old friends, a hard-to-let-go skip.

Finally, 'that' clock had moved on.

In the evening, I went to a meeting of a group I am a member of. I was a week early. I felt foolish. Was this the revenge of 'that' clock?