fine whine

Few of my timepieces* display the correct time. In the house we do have one clock (actually a weather station) that syncs itself with the signal from that atomic clock in Colorado, but all the others range anywhere from a minute off to half an hour or more.

My wristwatches, when not out of commission or battery, are all at least a couple minutes fast, generally around seven.

My car has two digital clocks in it (both factory installed, no less) and they're both wrong, though within twenty seconds of each other. They're ten minutes fast, tested against the NPR announcer's clock almost daily.

Ten minutes is also the amount of time it takes for me to drive to work in the morning. Knowing that, as soon as I sit down in the car I know what time I'll be at work, all without doing any mental math**.

As nifty a trick as this may be, I'm working on my morning routine so that as soon as I get out of bed I know what time I'll sit down in the car. I'm within five minutes, I think, but I know I can improve my time.

Then again, it's just a matter of time before one of us clumsily fat-fingers the time-setting buttons searching for the snooze button, anyway.

* Because I seem to be writing about time so frequently, I have created a corresponding 'time' category. It's about time, eh?

** Closing my eyes while driving is something I've tried to avoid, over the years, to the extent that I am capable of, and moreover inclined to, sneeze with my eyes open.

Lately at work I've found myself closing my eyes to do a mental calculation*.

I don't recall doing this as a child, and even doing this months ago.

It's likely I've been a little more sleep-deprived lately than usual (though somewhat of my own doing) and work has been tenser and more stressful than usual (somewhat less of my own doing), but are those factors enough to degrade my mental abilities this much?

Also, am I sticking my tongue out as I do it?

* Well, actually I'm just doubling a measurement: seeing, for example, 11 7/8" and needing to write down 23 3/4". Why I now need darkness to concentrate on this simple task, I do not know.

I have no excuses for my (regularly scheduled) posting lapse. I'm no less interested, or interesting, I merely haven't posted anything. My apologies to my few remaining readers.

That said, one of the trivial mysteries of my life may well have been solved: I think I've figured out why I dislike looking in mirrors in the dark*. I avert my gaze from mirrors in low lighting because I can't make out faces, particularly my own. Every fifth or sixth grader knows that the human eye uses cone and rod cells for vision in bright and dim lighting, respectively. The rods are what let people see in near-darkness, but they're concentrated more on the outside of the retina and function best in peripheral vision. To look directly at something, then, with the rods is to see less than glancing at it sidelong.

Enough mumbo jumbo (if you want more, feel free to read up on rods and the eye at the Wikipedia). In the dark, if I look directly at my reflection in the mirror, I am unable to make out the details of my face. This seems to be unnerving, as I find myself deliberately looking in mirrors in the dark.

At least, that's my hypothesis, and I'm sticking to it.

* Well, other than the old childhood childish 'Bloody Mary' superstition, which I'd like to think I've long since outgrown but haven't tested to be certain.