Batclock R.I.P.

We lost power for a little while on Friday afternoon. I know this, because when I got home from a career seminar, all of the clocks in the house were blinking.

Generally, this is an inconvenience, nothing more. But there's one clock that has become increasingly difficult to set: the Bat-clock my brother and sister-in-law gave me as a present a few years ago. While the time and bat-signal can still be projected onto the ceiling (the clock's coolest feature, which would have been even cooler if my eyes were good enough to read it without glasses), the time-set controls have gotten ornerier over the years.

Re-setting the current time always takes a little finessing, but getting the alarm right is so much of a pain that I've considered just keeping it at midnight and adjusting the time setting so that "midnight" is at 7-something in the morning. And this latest power outage, coupled with the fact that where the hell do I have to go in the morning, anyway?, has kept me from messing with it all weekend. And I think it may be time to retire the clock to the attic. Or maybe the basement-slash-Batcave. In any event, I'm certain to put it in a glass case downstairs, as I do the plastic shells of all the clocks who have served me over the years. Because that's what heroes do: We decorate with our dead.

Rest in peace, Batclock. Gotham mornings won't be the same without you.

Rob