The Dog Clock

I hate Daylight Savings Time. It is inconvenient in our modern world. However, in my own little OCD world, I have learned to come to grips with it – with one exception.

It used to bother me when the clock in the car would be off. When I had the car serviced I would spend valuable time resetting the clock and all my radio stations. I had to pull the book out of the glove compartment and find all the right pages. Then I had to hold the D button and tap the down arrow button and click something until the right hour came up. Repeat steps holding the other button to set the minutes. Then click SET. Dang it. The 11 seconds it took to do the minutes and hit SET delayed me enough that the announcer on the radio told me it was 6:07 and my clock said 6:06. Start over. The same situation applied to Daylight Savings time. I constantly asked myself why don’t auto manufacturers put a computer chip in these dang-fangled things that changes everything automatically. (Well, they do now, but I can’t afford those cars. It will be my third used car from now that will have this technology, but I will still be three generations of auto-technology behind.)

I also asked “Why can’t we all be like Arizona and not play the Spring Forward / Fall Back game?” Before I pick up the phone to call friend Sue in Arizona I have to remember if I am two hours ahead of her or only one. I usually screw this up as I replace her alarm clock on Saturday mornings, and I am going off way too early for her liking.

Well, I finally came to a crossroads and made the decision, requiring me to use a whole lot of self control, to leave the clock in the car at one set time – the time for Spring Forward. If I am in the Fall Back time period I know that six months down the road it will be correct again. I have my watch on my arm to rely on, but I steel myself every time I look at the dashboard during the Fall Back months. I even have this little mantra I say: In six months this will be normal. In five months this will be normal . . . . etcetera until the time change catches up with my system.

Let’s reveal a little about The Self.

• All the cans on my shelves are together in groups with all the labels facing the same way. You will not find a can of corn in the same line as canned tomatoes.
• Stacks of plates are stacked with the designs exactly the same direction – they way I would set the table with them so the design on your plate won’t be upside down or facing 3 o’clock or 9 o’clock or 2:07.
• When I load these dishes in the dish washer – ditto on the designs.
• My spices are in groups: Asian, Italian, Mexican and General. General covers my basic staples of salt, pepper, garlic powder and red chili powder.
• My towels are folded like books with a matching hand towel and wash cloth inside, they are turned on the shelf so the only side you see of the tri-fold towels is the smooth curved side.
• I fold and pre-sort my dirty clothes. The suits have their own hamper, lingerie has a hamper, and everyday clothes have a hamper. Don’t roll your eyes. It saves time sorting on laundry day. If I need a suit that I wore that week, I can grab one hamper and be done with it.

 My well ordered little world rocked along just fine until I adopted Ruby. Ruby is the black lab I took into my home a couple of years ago. (Her story is on the blog titled Shot and Left For Dead.) Ruby is an amazing dog. Very early in our relationship she taught me why Labs are chosen to be assist dogs. Their instinct to sense a need is amazing. Ruby also has another outstanding attribute. She has one doggone good sense of time. I had her sixth months when we hit the time change. I was waking up the household an hour off. An hour before dinner time she started barking at me. She stood in the kitchen and barked at me for twenty minutes. It was as if she was saying: FOOD FOOD FOOD [breathe] FOOD FOOD FOOD [breathe] FOOD FOOD FOOD. It took me weeks to catch on. Her six o’clock and my six o’clock were off by an hour. In the Fall Back months, her inner clock said it was six - which was her dinner time, but the wall clock said it was only five. I tried to feed the pack at odd times to throw her off. Didn’t work. At five every evening she would bark. For six whole months. It was easier to go out to dinner and come home late than face the incessant barking I knew was coming. She would look at me as if I were deliberately withholding food and/or maybe I was just too stupid to tell time.

We just hit a new time change and her clock is back on schedule, or, should I say the rest of our world finally has it right. If I am not watching the clock, barking doesn’t start until six in the evening on Spring Forward. She is happy when the dinner bucket comes out at the right time slot of the day. She is satisfied that her idiot master is finally getting the evening meal time right.

I have peace until Fall Back hits again. And maybe someday I’ll address that confounded clock in the car. I have to admit it irritates the heck out of me. Every Single Time I Get In The Car. It’s a good thing I have dogs. They are probably the only creatures who can stand to live with me. Dogs and spiders. Spiders are another story.

I Told You So

I Told You So

Best words on the planet. Especially when you have been arguing with someone about a topic and you are later validated to be correct.

About six months ago I told Ramon that the garage was crawling with tiny ants. It was the same with the front driveway and the yard. He argued with me and said it was dirt. I stated that the dirt was MOVING. He ignored me. I observed that he was struggling with seeing a lot of details. He has always been a little lazy and let me decide on meals when dining out. That could also have been attributed to the fact that, before I came along, his version of dining out meant take out pizza, burgers, and whatever food they served in the bars he haunted. I didn’t realize it could have been a cover up for not being able to read clearly in low light. 

With the way his eyes looked I was sure he had cataracts interfering with his vision. I badgered him to get his eyes checked. He argued there was nothing wrong – typical male. The biggest problem with Ramon is the fact that he has never been sick. I kid you not.

We registered him for all parts of Medicare a few months ago. The first question they asked was, “What is the name of your primary care physician?” The Answer – don’t have one. After the insurance agent looked a little puzzled, the next statement of “I’ve never been sick.” totally baffled the man. The questionnaire with all the medical questions had all the NO slots marked. Never, Never, Never been to a doctor????  No. Never. No surgery. Quite smoking ages ago. So you see why Ramon had a tough time admitting something was finally wrong with him. Oh, wait. I can name a bunch of things wrong with him, but being a stubborn old goat who drinks Miller Lite as soon as Miller Time starts in the afternoon every single day has nothing to do with this eyesight issue.

Mind you, I was NOT the person who ended up convincing him to go have his eyes checked. He failed the vision test at the Department of Motor Vehicles. They refused to renew his license. He hated to tell me. Uh, let me correct that. He didn’t exactly tell me. He tried to blame it on the little box with the light chart. He tried to blame it on having the wrong reading glasses he purchased at the Dollar Store. The words FAILED the exam never rolled off his tongue.

I made the appointment. We went to the eye clinic. Ramon fidgeted. We finally saw the doctor and the prognosis was not good. Ramon was informed he was almost totally blind in one eye and the other was really bad. I didn’t resist the temptation to say, “I told you so!” I blurted it out immediately. The doctor turned to me and said, “I take it this has been a point of discussion.” No kidding on that one.

So we got the kit with pages of instructions. Guess what the first instruction was? Go to your doctor and have a routine physical and an EEG. Duh. We hadn’t chosen said doctor, yet. So I helped him jump through those hoops.

To shorten this story, Ramon had his first surgery. After six months of non-admittance of the problem, arguing there was anything wrong, and ignoring me when I mentioned it, Ramon’s mouth couldn’t stop telling everyone the story of failing the eye exam at the DMV, the doctor telling him he was blind in that eye, how easy the surgery was and how near-perfect his sight became!!!

Do you think he gave me any credit for trying to get him to address this issue? That would be a NO in all caps. Any time he mentioned it, I'd say, “I told you for six months.”

TOLD YOU SO

TOLD YOU SO

TOLD YOU SO

He finally had enough Miller Lite one night to say I was right and thank you. Unfortunately, it was enough Miller Lite he doesn’t remember that happening. Where was my recorder when I needed it? I could have made a CD to play back to him. It would have been like music to my ears. The words to the chorus could have been, “I told you so. I was right all along. I knew it. I knew it. Eat your crow and chew it.”

Yeah, I am that mean.