On the third stroke, it will be two minutes ago, precisely * beep beep beep *

I've worked out why I haven't seen Porsche Man since last week. It's because I'm leaving the house at the wrong time.

Usually, I check the time by the kitchen clock, but lately, I've been a bit haphazard in my morning routine and have been checking the time by the dining room clock and also by the stereo timer. Yesterday, I even went by the video clock. It wasn't until this morning that I realised that all my clocks told a different time.

Or, at least, I thought they did. In fact, something far more vexing had happened.

- - -

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching. Perhaps this time I'd better make some sort of effort to get up?

I squinted at the clock. Meh! 06:15. OK, I really had better get up this time.

After struggling into some underwear and trousers, sloppily making the bed and opening the curtains by hand - I never use magic when I first wake up, not after that unfortunate incident involving the partition wall, a sleeping neighbour and a concertina* - I grabbed a shirt & tie and made my way carefully downstairs where my first stop was the living room: Open curtains, check Car** is still outside and that no one's parked too close it, glance at video clock - 06:27.

In the dining room, I hang my shirt & tie on the back of a chair, open the blinds, remember I haven't brought my cuff links down so trudge upstairs to get them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs for the second time, cuff links safely in hand, movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I snap my head around to the right. For a fleeting moment I think I catch a glimpse of a half naked figure in the living room heading for me! However, it's gone before I really have time to think about it. Anyway, it was probably my reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. Wasn't it?

As I head to the kitchen, casually dumping the cuff links on the dining room table, I look at the clock again - 06:27. Huh? Oh well...

In the kitchen, I grab a glass of fruit juice and gulp it down, noticing the time on the wall clock as I tip my head back to get the last few drops - 06:24. Sod. The clock must be slow. Or the others are fast? Never mind. Leaving the empty glass on the draining board, I pass through the utility room*** and into the bathroom.

After washing my hands & face and putting my contact lenses in, I make a quick effort with my hair. It has to be a quick effort: If my hair doesn't sweep, slick and stick up/out with a couple of precision gel-enabled swipes, it never will - I could be working on it for half an hour and still not be satisfied. Returning to the kitchen, I pick up the glass to get another shot of juice, noting the time on the thermostat in front of my face - 06:27. Turning towards the fridge, I suddenly start! I could've sworn someone, of the half naked variety, was in the dining room. Giving the dining room my full attention, I discover that it is free of extraneous people. Hmmm...

I make my sandwiches - tuna, horseradish & mayonnaise on wholemeal bread (of course!) - wash a couple of apples and wrap them in kitchen roll and retrieve my mug for work. As I go to get my bag from the utility room, I look up at the kitchen wall clock again - 06:44. Shit! Must get a move on.

In the dining room, I pack my bag with my lunch and the few other things I need - wallet, phone and fully charged wand. Blast! I didn't switch my phone off. I scoop it out of the depths of my bag and turn it off, noticing the time before the display goes dark - 06:47.

Uh oh. Haven't brushed my teeth. Back to the bathroom where I give my fangs a good going over. After a couple of rinses, I'm satisfied with the way the light glints disturbingly off them. Excellent (said/thought in Mr Burns style complete with steepling finger action)! Hanging the towel up, I look through to the kitchen and see someone leaning over the worktop!

Holy crap! It's me!

I storm through the utility room and into the kitchen only to find that I'm not there. Looking around uncertainly I see nothing untoward. Where am I? Was I seeing things? It is still early in the morning, after all. A quick glance at the clock confirms it - 06:47. Then I see myself packing my bag in the dining room. What the...?

Now in the dining room, I'm not there either. What's going on? My bag's packed, just as I left it. Perhaps the four minds of me have finally caused me to go mad(der)? Anyway, I haven't got time for this if I'm going to make it out of the house in time to see Porsche Man. It's 06:51 already!

I rush upstairs to slather my face in anti-ageing (ha!) moisturisers and potions and inspect my crowsfeet in the mirror - Crikey! It looks like the crows have invited an ostrich or two over! Back downstairs, I put on my shirt, tie & cuff links, inspect myself in the mirror - that'll have to do - grab my keys and the hand moisturiser. As I massage the cream into my hands, I take a look at the time - 07:07! Shiiiiiit!

Hauling my bag over my head & shoulder, I step into the kitchen to leave via the back door. Another glance at the kitchen clock - 07:04. That's better. However, as I open the door, I gaze through to the dining room and see myself standing in front of the mirror adjusting my tie. Eeeeeeeeeek! Oh no. Oh no. What's more important? Finding out what the Hell is going on in my house or catching Porsche Man's eye in the hope that he'll stop and whisk me off somewhere?

Luckily, Shallowness kicks in and Porsche Man comes up trumps. However, along with Shallowness comes Uncommon Sense. As I battle past the jungle outside my back door, I realise what has happened: Time in my house has come a little unstuck. It's not that the clocks are wrong - they are, in fact, right - they're telling the right time for the time zone they're in. Somehow, each room in my house has separated itself from the timeline and is doing its own thing a few minutes apart from everything else.

Now I'm going to have to get Chronosfear around here to amalgamate my errant time zones. I don't like to have him around here as he always leaves a lingering smell of eggs...






Bugger.


* A story for another time.
** Car is neither male nor female, and doesn't have a name other than Car. I still love it and talk to it, though.
*** Barely a room at all. It's just a space between the kitchen and bathroom that houses the airing cupboard and a rather temperamental and difficult washing machine. Git!