I Feel Naked

I feel naked without a wristwatch on. I went for almost a year without one when my favorite silver Fossil watch stopped on the plane to Dallas three years ago when we were on the way out here to look at houses. I was working from home, and didn’t have any kind of schedule to stick to, and didn’t really need to track time all that closely.

But my wrist felt horribly light, and I never got past that feeling of being undressed, as if by having one unadorned wrist, I was doing the equivalent of answering the door without underwear on, or checking the mail in my nightgown, or going to school naked. Not that I’ve been in school in the last decade.

Although, when I was in school, my cello teacher once suggested that I remove my watch because it might help my hand position when I was playing in extended positions, and I argued with her, telling her I was accustomed to the weight of it, and it wouldn’t help. Wanna guess which of us was right?

Two years ago at Valentine’s Day Fuzzy got both of my silver watches fixed, and I also had a cheap watch I got from a department store, but the silver ones have started to bother my wrist, and the cheap pink plastic one is really too casual for anything but morning dog walkings.

I’ve been looking at Hamilton watches, lately, because they have some really interesting designs, especially one where the face – dial – whatever – is sort of a curvy triangle. (I know there’s a word for that, but it escapes me.) Alas, it’s $645, and I can’t really justify that right now.

I kind of wish I was still at the age when a $20 Mickey Mouse watch would make me happy, the way it did when I was ten.

Until then?

Well, I still feel naked.