In Jp’s speech therapy waiting room -also known as the only place I get any peace lately- there is a clock. An old timey, counting-the-seconds-until-the-lunch-bell, clock. Now, in this digital age there is simply no excuse to have a clock that ticks like that. It’s insanity. It’s like being in the Breakfast Club with toys on the floor.
I want to take a hammer to it.
Seriously. Not a little hammer, either, but a big, cartoonishly large hammer that dings the bell at the fair kind. I want to bash it Office Space style until the archaic springs pop out.
I just want to enjoy the sounds of silence a few hours a week. Is that too much to ask, clock, is it? IS IT?!?!?!
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.