A way to get back on tour
In a central location, near the kitchen, we have a clock. Mechanical. Old school. And “it” proudly announces the progression of the hours with a really fake bird voice. Not even a close approximation. My only salvation is that it uses a twelve hour sequence. Imagine if I had to accept precision, with a twenty-four hour series. Many birds have died for less egregious actions. I think there’s another clock, in a box in the garage. We had retired it, because of an accumulation of grime inside. I could have “dueling cuckoos”.
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