When
you have to adjust the clocks in your house, how do you do it?
We
all know the drill. Maybe it’s one of those two times a year when
the hours shift. Spring ahead, fall asleep for an hour, something
like that. Or, maybe the power went out for a bit. Whatever the
case, displays flashing or not, there you are needing to get a
few of the clocks back on track.
How
do you do it?
Do
you bring your cell phone with you? Maybe glance at it in every
room and make sure that as you wander around the house all of
the clocks get set pretty darn close to the same time. Or, do
you take a quick look, and then set every clock in the house to
5:23pm. Doesn’t matter that you get to the last clock ten to fifteen
minutes after the first clock… 5:23pm… 5:23pm… 5:23pm… because
sometimes it’s just easier to adjust your life to the idea that
the kitchen clock is eight minutes slow.
I
was wondering about this as I left the grocery store. (I know.
And it was odd. But tangents connect as tangents connect. See…)
The
store I was in had just changed ownership. New group in place,
loyalty card for the previous store no longer worked. But instead
of signing up at the customer service desk or whatever, all you
needed to do was enter your cell phone number on the pad near
the cashier while checking out.
The
cashier had told me I might get a welcome text, so I was looking
at my phone as I walked back to my car, and when I sat down I
happened to notice the clock on the dashboard was off by a few
minutes.
For
whatever reason, I can tell you that even if I do double-check
the time as I set every clock, within a few weeks a handful of
them will be noticeably different. We could talk about why that
is, but the why isn’t really the important part. Instead, the
trickier part is that I could find three or four clocks that have
a five-minute disparity, and there’s a chance that I don’t know
which one is actually right. (There’s also a chance I don’t really
care. (Actually, not just a chance. It’s close, and I really don’t
care.))
Technology
is a funny thing. My phone adjusts to the time all on its own,
no help from me. Computer does that as well. So do the boxes hooked
up to deliver television service.
And
yet I still have several clocks in my house that have some version
of a classic standard clockface, with moving hands, that need
to be spun around in order to set them. They don’t blink to tell
me the power went out. And, occasionally I do a double-take when
I look at them, realize they are way off, and it takes a moment
to dawn on me that the battery needs to be replaced.
It
didn’t take me long to understand that my dogs had no use for
time as a specific concept. In the morning, as the light began
making attempts to creep around miniblinds and curtains, they
would wake up at the same point every morning. It didn’t matter
what the clocks said. It didn’t matter if it was a magical day
where I was supposed to get an extra hour of sleep. The sun had
arrived, they were awake, and it was time to go outside and get
the day started.
So,
sure, all these items that self-adjust are able to tell me what
time it is. But time doesn’t actually exist. It’s just a way we’ve
learned how to communicate, or more specifically to have a common
way to define events. It tells us when to be at work. Tells us
when to meet friends for dinner. Tells us when the game is supposed
to start.
Time
is being twisted in all sorts of crazy ways. Twisted as I never
would have expected as a child. What had been a Monday to Friday,
nine to five, has shifted to twenty-four-seven. You can head out
to the store any time of day. And even that is gone, since the
internet will allow you have groceries brought to your doorstep
without ever having to change out of your pajamas. (Not that many
people actually do change out of their pajamas to go to the store
these days. Different essay for that.)
How
do you track your twenty-four hours each day? Is it specifically
important to you? Or does it matter if the living room and garage
don’t agree by five minutes?
Maybe
all that matters is why we need to know.