Time has been on my mind.
I have two watches. My running watch and my work watch. They are both broken right now. That means I am out of my habit of wearing a watch to sleep. DH has long suggested that consulting my watch in the middle of the night is not good for my battle with sleeplessness.
In the winter, I have explained to him that I need to check the watch when I wake: if it’s past the 5:00 a.m. goal, I can call it a good night of sleep and get on with my day. In the summer, though, he has a point. I don’t need a watch to tell me about the goal. If the sky is still dark, I need to go back to bed. I do seem to be sleeping well without the watch. Good news.
The running watch is actually still running. It’s just the band that is broken. The work watch, a delicate little number, is stopped. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.
Taking the picture for this post made me think of Dali’s iconic painting of the melting watches. Thinking about time melting away brings out my nostalgic side. But at least I can reminisce on a full tank of sleep, making me wistful but not weepy.