Watch over Tuesday

Allow me to introduce you to my watch.

Most days this watch sits, neglected, in the drawer that holds random accessories of more or less importance to my life.  

In short, I never wear this watch.

Except, that is, for Tuesdays.  

On Tuesdays, I start my day the same as any other day, except--after I help my hair to dry with as little frizz as possible and after I figure out what on earth I'm going to wear--I add to my ensemble this watch.

It serves a purpose, you see, because on Tuesdays, I head out in the mornings to gather with my favorite group of musical babies.  In a giant room stripped of any and all distraction--which would include clocks--we sing and wiggle around with blissful glee until I look at my watch and say--time's up! And then, we sing good-bye.  On Tuesday the watch watches over us and makes sure our fun does not take over our entire lives, as it easily could since--when the time comes--we all agree through a variety of communicative means that we do not want to go.

And then, on Tuesday afternoons, the watch serves the same purpose when one of my piano babies and I work our way through our giant list of things to do, often completely unaware that 30 minutes have indeed passed.  

The watch has become a necessary component of Tuesday.

But on this particular Tuesday, the watch served a further purpose.  This particular Tuesday was a "I am determined to diligently dissertate" Tuesday.  It meant sitting at a table at Wegmans all day, until that watch informed me it was time to leave for that piano baby.

And then, the watch and I returned to Wegmans for more dissertation diligence, until we looked at each other and said:
It's time--

this dissertation baby is going home.