In my recent closet purge, I emptied everything out of my grandmother's old jewelry box that I had inherited. Why I should have inherited it is beyond me. I am not a jewelry wearer. I am about as "un" frou-frou as you can get. My daily adornment consists of earrings (the same ones - I never take them out) because I have pierced ears (one each side, thank you) and a watch, Monday-Friday. This is where it gets interesting. Okay, maybe interesting to ME. Suffer along with me if you will....
I own no less than 9 watches. I wear one. The other eight do not have functioning batteries, are missing straps, or are in some other state of unworkability. I have three dress watches (one with a diamond, oooooh la la), one that clips to your belt (although you'd have to be able to read upside down to tell the time - or stand on your head), an official Vespa watch, a couple of Swatch watches, and my favorite, a wind-up watch sans strap that I found in a box of buttons that I got at a garage sale. The one I wear requires no battery, nor does it have a wind-up stem. It gets its "juice" from movement*.
I realized, yesterday, that I had put this watch on without even glancing at it. I wore it all day, never looked at it. As a matter of fact, I never look at my watch. When I finally did glance at it, right before I took it off, I realized that it was at least 12 hours behind. Fercryinoutloud. So why do I wear one? I think I am more interested in the idea of watches. I tend to like great big ones (just in case I am going to look at it, I want to be able to read it). It has more to do with my fascination with how things work - all the bits and bobs, pieces and parts. When I was young, I took everything and anything that I could get my grubby little hands on apart. This caused my father to hide his grandfather's pocket watch from me - apparently there was a glint in my eye every time I walked by it. Everything else was fair game. This went on fairly unchecked until the day I decided I HAD to find out how a golf ball was put together. We were visiting my aunt and uncle's house at the time. My uncle was quite the golfer. When I casually asked if I could have an old golf ball, he obliged and off I went, secreted pocket knife and all. (I wasn't allowed to own a pocket knife, but I had three - another obsession.) After I had successfully sawed off the white covering, I was presented with a tight ball of rubber bands. I started to peel them off and quickly lost patience. So I took my trusty knife and carved through to the middle - which contained a pressurized liquid center. Which exploded in my face and into my astonished open eyes! I was temporarily blinded and had all the adults in an uproar. But worst? My pocket knife was taken from me.
Once I had recovered, I was grounded. I swear I spent most of my formative years grounded. It also cured some of my drive for taking things apart. A little bit of it. A very little bit. I am a slow learner.
*May I just say that after I saved up to get this watch (Orient), I was totally dismayed to receive a shoe-box sized package that contains all kinds of....packaging! It comes with a manual, a tool kit, a fancy box. I'm surprised it didn't come with an au pair to help it get through daily life! Geez.