So as many of you know, I like making stuff out of something that has nothing to do with its original function.
Like the bowling pin lady.
And I was thinking about the congruity of incongruity today when I was sweeping the crunchy stuff off the floors, manipulating the broom around the clock table to snag the puffs of dog hair that had accumulated around the legs.
So here's the clock table.
But it wasn't very accurate.
Regardless of accuracy, I like how it looks, so it was on my wall for a few years, third hand spinning, little and big hands informing me - completely inaccurately - of the time.
I took it as a message from the universe to be a bit less attached to the idea of time.
My son thought the clock would make a cool table.
So he and I went scouting for an appropriate host onto which we'd make a clock table. We found a stool at a thrift store, took the cushion off the top, spray painted what remained a black tone that seemed to match the clock.
My dad took a peek at the clock works, and noticed that all the spinny wheels were made of metal. So he sprayed the works with WD-40, and the clock told accurate time. For a while.
Maybe it would have continued to tell time accurately had I been vigilant about the works' continued lubrication. But it's not a huge priority for me.
I like the fact that the red hand spins, and I like the ironic reality that the clock is one of the few things in our world that has no attachment to real time.
Aside from its lack of function as a clock, our clock table is a great place to rest a beverage or book.
So the clock table does have a function.
A couple of functions, really.
On its face, it's a quirky flat functional surface.
And it reminds me to be a bit less attached to time.