I swear they are out to get me. All those confounded electronic devices that gang up on me and figure out ways to confuse me in the middle of the night.
I told you about my
new phone and how it reduced me to a confused, muddle-headed, mess blindly stabbing at buttons hoping that one of them may possibly answer this silly contraption.
Well, let me tell you another little story. I decided that a working mommy deserved an actual working watch. You know one with a strap that actually wraps all the way around your wrist and stays there and tells you the time. Amazing concept I know, but I didn't think it was so much to ask.
Prince Charming and I go to the store and pick one out. My only requirement was that it had a watch strap that would wrap around my wrist and hopefully not wear out in a month. We find one that fits (I have big wrists that in itself was an adventure bordering on a treasure hunt, let me tell you). We found one, we put in the box, we take it home and I put it on. It is a watch, it tells time. That should be all there is to know . . . . right? Yeah right . . . . and all you need to know about cell phones is how to answer them.
I put it on and suddenly there are numbers flashing on the screen that little calendear at the top is flashing three days. What?!? It can't possibly be three days at once. I may not know much, but this I do know. And there should NOT be numbers flashing. Prince Charming set the time. I am starting to think that the little instruction booklet that came with the watch was there for more than extra wrapping to keep the watch from rattling.
I mean I was not surprised the watch came with instructions, so do Pop Tarts. They are for the extremely stupid who can't figure out that the POP-TARTS TOASTING INSTRUCTIONS (1. Remove pastry from pouch. 2. Warm pastry in toasting appliance at lowest or lightest heat setting for one heating cycle only. 3. Cool briefly before carefully removing pastry from toasting appliance. ) basically boils down to take it out of the package, put it in the toaster, when it is done, take it out and eat it, but don't burn yourself silly.
I figured that the watch instructions were like that, for those silly people who lived in caves all there life and have not had the ample watch wearing experience that I, the ever so world-wise one has had.
But that was before I realized that my watch was out to get me. So meanwhile back on the ranch, I am wearing this watch that is flashing all this stuff at me, like it is trying to send secret messages out the alien invaders. And I give Prince Charming my best damsel in distress look and show him my watch. He patiently tells me, if you see that again, push this button and that one and it will go away. And I head off, secure that I have now got this invernal contraption figured out and a lifetime of time-telling bliss is soon to be mine.
But I was wrong.
My watch took to flashing strange things at me when I wasn't expecting it to. I would be working away and suddenly wonder, when is my lunch anyway? And I would look at my watch, expecting it to have the answer. I mean that is it's job. It is the only job it was hired for. I didn't read its resume and I certainly did NOT want all the bells and whistles. I want one and only one thing, THE TIME. But when I look at the time, it is flashing something at me. I try Prince Charming's very simple instructions, "Push this button and then that one." and look hopefully at the watch. And . . . . nope, more numbers getting progressively higher with every button I push. "God help me! Please tell me I am not changing the time on this thing!" I silently pray to myself as I practice my blindly pushing buttons technique I perfected on my cell phone. Finally, with one final push of the buttons, my watch once again proclaims the time. Which is nowhere near lunchtime, but I can handle that. I get back to work forgetting the numbers that were on the watch before I got it to again tell me the time. I figure, they are gone, so they can't be that important, right?
But I was wrong.
At about three in the morning, my watch starts shreiking at me. Without opening my eyes, I blindly press buttons hoping to kill that horrible noise. It goes away and I blissfully fall back asleep. At about five in the morning, I once again hear this shrieking this horrible, awful noise. But I am dead tired. Sound asleep and my brain has decided that this is the alarm clock going off. I am stabbing at buttons on the clock, turning off the alarm, and mumble, "why won't this thing shut up!?". Prince Charming, rolls over, gently takes my hand away from the clock, turns off my evil watch and we both go back to sleep. At some later point in time, (I didn't open my eyes for this one.) It goes off AGAIN!!! I put my hand over Prince Charming, hand him my wrist and say ever so pleasantly, "Turn this damned thing off or it is going in the toilet." With one push of the buttons, he shut it up, hopefully permanently.
But I swear, if this watch takes battle with me tonight, I coming downstairs, I am taking the hammer and I am going to win this battle permanently while making myself a nice watch shaped pile of rubble to play with.
Btw, have I mentioned that we recently got digital cable? Stay tuned for further adventures in "When Good Electronics Go Bad."
