Cats and clocks and identity crises

I have been having a bit of a dilemma with alarm clocks of late. I decided out of the blue a few weeks back that I no longer like the alarm clock that I’ve had for the last few years. It’s gone from being cute and funky to just plain ugly, through no fault of it’s own. So I started a quest for a new one. I found the coolest retro style clock. It was metal and heavy and I loved it. It had a couple of downfalls however. It didn’t have a light, which is important to me in an alarm clock. And it ticked. Boy, did it tick. It ticked like it’s life depended on it. Not surprising really – I guess it did. I wasn’t affected by it in the slightest, but it turned Shaun into the devil incarnate. So it was out on it’s heavy metal ass.

Yesterday I thought I’d hit the jackpot. I was out doing some early Christmas shopping when I spotted some cool looking red things which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be clocks. They were digital – no ticking. I asked the chick at the shop if they had a light. Yup – all good. Sweet.

I set the clock up on my bedside table. It looked great. Things were going well. Until we went to bed. Things started going downhill as it proceeded to announce the time loudly every hour in a robotic American voice. “Beeeeeeeep. Eleven o’clock pm.”  Great. It was funny at first. That quickly ceased. If you pushed it to turn the light on it would tell you the exact time. Preceeded by the annoying beeeeeeep, of course.  To make matters worse, in my fit of buying excitement, I’d bought Shaun one as well. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they were in unison. But they weren’t.

After a few hours I punched it hard enough that it stopped the talking. Until 5:30 this morning when the alarm went off. Now, I accept that alarms need to be obnoxious enough that you can’t ignore them, but the obnoxious beep followed by the extremely annoying robotic rooster crow could probably be considered overkill. That, and the fact that we couldn’t figure out how to stop it. It crowed and crowed and crowed until it’s batteries were forcibly removed. So those will be joining the ticking bastard in the alarm clock graveyard.

Whilst on the subject of annoying birds, I should mention that Chico has developed a bit of an identity crisis and seems to think he’s a sparrow. He has added a new trick to his repertoire of ridiculous yet highly entertaining habits. He no longer just empties the washing machine and drags the dirty clothes around the house, he now goes around the neighbourhood collecting all the bread that people have thrown out for the birds. He brings it in through his catdoor and eats it on the furniture. Every day when we get home there are piles of crumbs and half eaten pieces of bread all over the house. I wondered what was going on for a while until we witnessed him coming over the fence with some old burnt toast in his mouth.

Things are more than a little weird around our place at the moment.

2 thoughts on “Cats and clocks and identity crises

  1. The ticking bastard in the alarm clock graveyard. What a line…

    Rules to have learnt from, if I may offer some advice which you probably have already figured:

    Don’t buy anything retro. That includes grandfather clocks.
    Don’t buy any mechanical objects coloured red. They induce anger and resultantly get punched.


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