Rest in peace, cheap digital alarm clock bought new (at a drugstore, probably) in 1993. You woke me up for part of elementary school, all of middle school, all of high school, and remained plugged in until earlier this week. You saw me through more than two decades. You saw me at my sleepiest, my grumpiest, and, on those occasions when I’d failed to heed your advice and overslept, my most panicked.
On your final day, you showed me strange, non-numerical figures I’d never seen before. It was a wonderful surprise, like learning that an old friend also speaks pigeon. But the figures didn’t go away when I hit buttons.
Gradually, it dawned on me that it was over.
I cracked you open, then, to see what was inside. All sorts of shiny electronic components lay just beneath your faux wood grain plastic exterior. I didn’t understand any of it, but I was impressed by how much there was to not understand.
After all these years, I hardly knew you at all.
You knew me, cheap digital alarm clock bought new (at a drugstore, probably) in 1993, but I hardly knew you at all.
This, this was a great reminder that all good things must come to an end. And also how much I miss your short posts on Facebook. How they brighten my day and make me see the mundane as infinitely complex and often hilarious. Also, I’m sorry for your loss. Where shall I send the flowers?
Claire!
Glad to brighten your day. Thanks for saying that. Very kind of you.
Oddly enough, this started as a Facebook post, then it got long enough that I thought probably no one would take the time to read it on there. So I hid it over here, where even fewer people will take the time to read it.
(Hmm. Doesn’t make much sense.)
In lieu of flowers, please send a new alarm clock. Or a rooster.