I think I'm becoming an obsessive. Honestly. I'm sat here quite innocently reading some of Blogger's most excellent material, and all I can hear is tick tick tick tick tick.
My clocks are driving me crazy.
OK, I just re-read over that and realised how utterly bizarre that sounded. Thing is, I have two clocks in my room - the clock on my wall (which is a loud clicker anyway), and the Mickey Mouse alarm clock circa 1993 that I now no longer use but don't have the heart to throw out. Basically, somehow between 1993 and now, the second hand of the alarm clock has bended slightly, which means that whenever it gets to the minute hand it has to work harder to push past it, so suddenly clicks really LOUDLY.
It gets itself all worked up into an irritating little crescendo once every minute, and it's driving me insane. Thing is, I know how stupid it is to get annoyed at something so pointless and - let's face it - not that intrusive, but I can't help it. Once I hear it click, I know it's there, and I can't think of anything else - not even the brilliance that is the aforementioned hayleyghoover. And that's annoying.
So I find myself gradually getting more and more annoyed at the stupid wretched mouse and his stupid clicking second hand that I end up taking a herculean leap from my bed over to the alarm clock, wrenching open it's little door and flinging the battery away.
Peace at last. That is until the morning, when I go over to the alarm clock looking so tragic and pillaged and lying on its side that I feel sorry for it and inevitably put its battery back in. I need to get a grip.
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