Wristwatches don't like me.
1. When I was six years old, my grandmother gave me a beautiful Minnie Mouse watch for my birthday. The strap was red leather, and the face had a litttle Minnie on it whose arms moved around to point at the numbers. I loved that watch dearly. It ran for a week. My mother took it to the jeweler's to get the batteries replaced. The batteries weren't the problem. The jeweler took it apart, and then told us that there was nothing wrong with the watch. It just didn't run.
2. When I was ten, I got a clip watch. I wore it hooked onto my belt loop. It lasted four days before dying.
3. When I was twelve, I made it to All-State Band in Pierre. My parents bought me a watch so that I'd know what time it was during the practices. It didn't last the day. When my mom tried wearing it the next day, it worked again. When I wore it a week after that, it abruptly quit, never to be resurrected.
4. When I was thirteen, I started borrowing my mom's watch. I wore it at CCD every week because the clock there didn't work. It lasted all of three hour-long classes. She repeated the jeweler escapade, with the same results.
5. I later borrowed another of my mom's watches. When that died after six days of use, she forbade me from using her wristwatches.
6. When I was fifteen, I made a bet that I could stop anyone's watch simply by wearing it for a day. My friend Rachel brought in an old watch. I won the bet; it stopped at 1:45.
7. Later that year, Time Magazine sent my dad a free watch with his subscription renewal. It was big and tacky, so he gave it to me. I thought I'd fool the watch gods and kept it in my jacket pocket instead of on my wrist. This one worked for all of two-and-a-half weeks.
My father has put forth the rather X-Files-ish theory that I have a Bizarro World electromagnetic field that interferes with my watches. He points to the fact that I have a habit of causing computers to crash for no reason--in eighth grade, I somehow caused five separate Compaqs to crash eleven times in one fifty-minute computer class. Two of those times I had merely opened the start menu before they froze.
My dad is also quick to remind me that for some odd reason I simply do not conduct static electricity. When my cousins and I used to play that game where you shuffle your feet on carpet and try to zap someone, it never worked for me. When Cal and I go to Target and play with the lightning lamp-things, she can always get a nice little bolt to connect to her finger. I end up with a fuzzy glowing ray from my fingertip to the power source-thing. Dad thinks this screams electric fields.
I think maybe I just have bad karma.
1. When I was six years old, my grandmother gave me a beautiful Minnie Mouse watch for my birthday. The strap was red leather, and the face had a litttle Minnie on it whose arms moved around to point at the numbers. I loved that watch dearly. It ran for a week. My mother took it to the jeweler's to get the batteries replaced. The batteries weren't the problem. The jeweler took it apart, and then told us that there was nothing wrong with the watch. It just didn't run.
2. When I was ten, I got a clip watch. I wore it hooked onto my belt loop. It lasted four days before dying.
3. When I was twelve, I made it to All-State Band in Pierre. My parents bought me a watch so that I'd know what time it was during the practices. It didn't last the day. When my mom tried wearing it the next day, it worked again. When I wore it a week after that, it abruptly quit, never to be resurrected.
4. When I was thirteen, I started borrowing my mom's watch. I wore it at CCD every week because the clock there didn't work. It lasted all of three hour-long classes. She repeated the jeweler escapade, with the same results.
5. I later borrowed another of my mom's watches. When that died after six days of use, she forbade me from using her wristwatches.
6. When I was fifteen, I made a bet that I could stop anyone's watch simply by wearing it for a day. My friend Rachel brought in an old watch. I won the bet; it stopped at 1:45.
7. Later that year, Time Magazine sent my dad a free watch with his subscription renewal. It was big and tacky, so he gave it to me. I thought I'd fool the watch gods and kept it in my jacket pocket instead of on my wrist. This one worked for all of two-and-a-half weeks.
My father has put forth the rather X-Files-ish theory that I have a Bizarro World electromagnetic field that interferes with my watches. He points to the fact that I have a habit of causing computers to crash for no reason--in eighth grade, I somehow caused five separate Compaqs to crash eleven times in one fifty-minute computer class. Two of those times I had merely opened the start menu before they froze.
My dad is also quick to remind me that for some odd reason I simply do not conduct static electricity. When my cousins and I used to play that game where you shuffle your feet on carpet and try to zap someone, it never worked for me. When Cal and I go to Target and play with the lightning lamp-things, she can always get a nice little bolt to connect to her finger. I end up with a fuzzy glowing ray from my fingertip to the power source-thing. Dad thinks this screams electric fields.
I think maybe I just have bad karma.
posted by Allison at
10:36 PM
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