My watch battery died on Thursday. I kept it on because, gosh, I haven't taken that watch off since my husband gave it to me...um...several years ago. I can't remember where we were living at the time which would help me determine what Christmas I received it as a present. Regardless, the watch never leaves my arm.
Until Saturday.
I got tired of it saying 12:20 and being incorrect. Here's where my husband would interject that I keep my watch set some minutes ahead so it's technically always incorrect, then I'd be forced to argue that just because all the clocks in our house say one time doesn't make them any more correct and he'd interrupt me by saying that setting my watch ahead doesn't help me because I *know* the time is incorrect so why can't I just set the damn watch to the correct time, then I'd say...
Where was I? Oh yes, my watch!!
When I noticed on Thursday, I screamed, "You can't be dead!" The battery died a couple of years ago too. So I screamed, "You can't be dead!" Lo and behold -- it started working. Of course, it couldn't be truly dead since I revived it by screaming. Then again, I woke my cat from a heat-induced coma by screaming and I collected a ton of beads at Mardi Gras by screaming.
Wait, that was due to my cleavage. Back to my watch.
Today, I'm shaking my arm every now and then to force my watch back to my wrist. Then I remember it's a phantom watch.
Phantom watches are very irritating, just in case you were curious.
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