We've had the same clock on our wall since we bought our first house thirteen years ago. Nothing fancy, probably from Target, but it does the job. Or at least it did until a few weeks ago.
I'm not sure what happened but it is now just pretending to do the job. It's not stopped or barely moving; it's just...wrong. Inconsistently so. I think it's about an hour slow but not in a way that I've yet to figure out. It's just slow enough that we feel like we're being robbed of time whenever we fall into its little trap.
This generally happens to me in the morning when the boys and I have gotten a slow start. I'll look at it and think, "Ten? Hey, that's not so bad." Then I remember it's not working and check a more dependable source. "Eleven fifteen?! Dang. It's almost lunch time! Uh, boys? I think we'd better get dressed..."
It also throws us off most evenings. Bill and I will get the boys to bed and then flop down in the living room where we, seeing how it's only 8:30, decide to watch a movie. When it ends a couple hours later, we congratulate ourselves on getting to bed at a decent hour on a weeknight. Then we go into the bathroom to brush our teeth and see that it's actually almost midnight. Dang clock! Fooled again.
The other night, just as our show wrapped up and we realized we'd been fooled by the clock once again, Bill yanked it off the wall and headed toward the junk drawer where the batteries are kept.
"But didn't you try replacing them already?" I asked, knowing he had.
"Yeah. But we can't have a broken clock on the wall."
I told him I'd get a new one but realized immediately this just wasn't true. "I know I'll get to the store and have to settle on one I only kind of like. Then I'll have to spend forty bucks on the thing. Plus, I'm just so used to this one, you know? I just don't want a different clock up there..."
I hear him fishing around in the drawer and hope that changing the batteries a second time will do the trick. You never know...
He comes back into the living room and sticks the clock back on the wall. "There," he says standing back to admire his work. "Now it's art."