Walking down the hall, I pass Chuck's office. Through the open door I see him climb up onto a table and take down his wall clock. When I started here a few weeks ago in June, I'd noticed that he hadn't set the clock to Daylight Savings Time back in April. I recognized a kindred spirit (the clock in my car only has the correct time six months out of the year), but now he's setting the clock.
"Are you springing forward?" I ask.
"Well, I had to get up on the table anyway to hang this picture." He replaces the clock and then holds the picture against the wall to decide where to put the nail. "Is this level with the top of the calendar?"
"Not quite. You should set it a few inches off, you'll never get it exact, only close and it'll drive you mad. It would drive me mad."
"Down a little?"
"Yes. I always hang pictures low anyhow because I'm short." I'm just a regular Chatty Cathy today, aren't I?
"You're weird." He sets down the picture and marks the wall with a pencil.
"No, I'm eccentric."
"Like that's any different? Hand me that hammer and that screw over on my desk. It was a job getting up here."
"It is different. I used to be weird, then I got old and now I'm eccentric. But I hang pictures low because I'm short." I pick up the dainty ball peen hammer and a three-quarter inch wood screw from his desk. "You're going to put in a screw with a hammer?"
"I'm going to start it anyway." He taps the screw into the wall. It goes right in, raising some question in my mind as to the stability of the walls. He hangs up the picture and it's not quite even with the calendar. It would drive me mad.
314 words | July 1, 2004 07:05 PM | Rocket science