On Tuesday, my watch disappeared. Completely. I knew it had to be in my apartment, and yet a thorough search came up with nothing. The loss particularly aggravated me for two reasons. One was practical: I'm leaving for my internship on Sunday, during which I'll assumedly need to check the time at moments when my computer isn't handy. The other was symbolic: I'd taken up wearing a watch when, at seventeen, I'd decided to in general behave a lot more consciously, and, to that end, to make myself fully aware of the passage of time. Losing my timepiece was thus losing a degree of self-awareness. Indeed, I probably lost the watch out of absentmindedness.
The store where I'd originally bought my watch didn't have any more copies of it, nor any other watch as easy on my weak albino eyes. So I ordered a new one online with expedited shipping. It was supposed to arrive today. Evening came, and the watch still hadn't; I worried that it wouldn't make it today and so I wouldn't get it at all before I left the city. But then, at seven, or some other hour long past the time when I'd thought UPS would deliver anything, it arrived!
Ever played Link's Awakening? You know that tune that plays when Link retrieves his sword from the beach—that aural bridge between the first few minutes of the game, when a tense rendition of the Zelda theme plays everywhere, and the rest of the game, when each area has its own theme? I hummed that tune as I put on the watch.
---
The Albino Formerly Known as Mimir