A Clockwork Random Redeux

Back on November 1st, I extolled the virtues of a time-keeping system in which all that happens in a day appears to happen two hours later that the actual time of happening, which happens to allow people that happen to check the time at Random Run a two hour daily buffer in which they can happen to fit additional happenings into the day.

Confused? Good. That's how I like my readership. Feeling Strangely Fine.

Anyways, you can now file that old post in the folder you may keep of "Stuff that May No Longer Be True." (just like the post about Maddengate. That game cheats on a daily basis these days.) Why is it no longer true? Well, as you recall, Spudicarius and I have operated throughout the fall on a 2 hour plus schedule. Because of the extra hour gained in October coupled with our tampering with time last spring, The real time is always 120 minutes less than what the hallway clock would lead us to believe. And since the clock has never communicated with the U.S. Naval Observatory for the official time (as the packaging would lead us to believe), we've gotten away with living on borrowed time.

Until now.

Like I said, the correction of this clock is controlled by your friends at the USNO. Well, it seems that they are harding working crew for 11 long months of the year. However, when December rolls around, the ops have a tendency change. Like any office, the USNO is susceptible to various holiday functions, like Christmas luncheons, rocking around the Christmas tree, and casual breaks around the ole' egg nog cooler. This means a slowdown in operations for most: some time of every day coming up to break is spend in the realm of holiday merrymaking. However, this has two sides. Christmas lunches and such allow those behind on their work to catch up, while everybody else pulls their proverbial race horses up a bit and to get a drink and catch their breath. Perceived as workaholic Scrooges by some, these determined folks are simply trying to get it together before 2005 rolls around (and all unmet objectives are deemed failures by their respective supervisors.)

Meanwhile, in a quiet apartment in Falls Church, Virginia, local blog writer Chris Condon is packing up his things to head up to Jersey for Christmas. He promised Katie he would be in Masassas by 6:00 sharp that night, and is doing everything to frantically pack and not leave the apartment in shambles. After zipping up the last bag and wrapping the last gift, I glanced up at the clock. 7:03. Plenty of time. Locked the door, and I was off.

While I spent Christmas introducing Katie to Condons near and far, as well as schooling the world in Cranium Turbo, Ensign Scrooge was still hustling to get everything done under the wire. Normally, the operations of the Navy wouldn't affect ordinary citizens in Falls Church (for the last time, NO, JAG is not really located in the FC), but just this once...

Returning back to VA on December 29, I set my bags down in the apartment (now 59 degrees) and rested on the couch. What a long day. Glanced up at the clock, glowing in the dim light of my recently booted-up computer: 11:15. Oh, good, it's just past 9 and I have three hours to unpack before bed - Wait a minute.

What's the local news doing on TV?

Someone has some explaining to do. Maybe that someone is me. And I'll get right to that once I finished right this Christmas thank you card to Ensign Scrooge for ripping a hole in my own personal space-time continuum.