Man. One time-warp ought to be enough. Three in a week? That’s a bit over the top, in my book.

That big bank clock across the street caused the first one. Bam! I look up Saturday afternoon, and it’s three-thirty! Where did the day go? I had several projects needing attention, but – Hey! – there isn’t enough time left now. Close at 5pm on Saturday. Tackle the job on Monday.

What? I look down later (later, I tell you…) at the little time indicator at the corner of the computer screen. It says two-o’clock. Somethings wrong. Computer glitch. Melt-down. Dell laptop brain freeze.

The cash register has a time function. When I’m not ringing up a sale, it shows the time. Sort of. Probably, the correct time in Denver. I never re-set it for Daylight Savings Time. But I know that. Just add an hour.

What? It’s showing one o’clock. Computer: two o’clock. I glance over at the bank. Man. Banker’s hours. It’s showing 4pm. 4pm.

Time warp.

Bank error – not in my favor. No collecting nothing.

So, what was going to be a quick Saturday, my only workday to get off a little bit early, now is going to be a dragger-outer. Hey! Someone stole two hours from me. They ain’t coming back. Even this evening. Take a look at those late evening shadows on the clock and compare it to the time o’day showing. The shadow is the cattle-guard iron fence on the bookstore roof showing on the bank at sundown. Someone needs to wind that big Ben.

Time warp.

Today, I finally got to the project that I should have finished on Saturday. Dragged a book case down from the loft. It was a lawyer leftover, I guess. Already here when I moved in, but covered with construction dust so thick I swore I’d never need it badly enough to do the clean-up.

Clean-up this evening. Needed it badly enough.

I needed a spot behind the counter where I could stash spray bottles, paper towels, special order books – odds and ends, you know. The stuff that would go in the kitchen junk drawer, but they’re too big to fit. I don’t have kitchen cabinets out here.

Everything was pretty well caught up. A get-out-and-go-to-the-house-on-time night. Bam! Clean up the bookcase. Clear out the space for it behind the counter. Dust.

Dust?

Where did that come from? How can there already be a collection of dust in that space back in the corner by the edge of the counter? Oh. It’s been a year (or more) since we moved that big counter in through the skinny door. A year (or more).

Time warp.

It just doesn’t seem that long. I’m trying to get all these things done to get the shop up and running, and Bam! A year has gone by. Man.

Time warp.

So I grab the broom and the dust pan. I yank loose some paper towels and a super-spray cleaner. Squirt, spray, wipe. Cough. Sweep, bend, bang into the trash can. Repeat.

Repeatedly.

What? Oh. There’s a lady talking to me, wondering if I’m still open. I guess I am, since she is inside and I haven’t attended to any of the closing duties. I look around, start to look at the bank clock – reassess – and look down at the little computer screen indicator. 7:10pm.

Time warp.

Ever happen to you? How a little project spins off another? You move this from here to there and then experience the attack of the dust bunnies? Back! Back! Knock them back! Then, the squirt bottle overspray must be wiped up and the paper towel comes up grimy. Another forgotten corner. Clean it. Clean it.

It’s still only around five, isn’t it?

Lady, at the counter: Are you still open?

Me, freaked out. Sure. Sure. I’m just trying to get an early start on the clean-up.

Lady, looking confused: How late do you stay open?

Me: ‘Til seven.

Lady: Well then. I guess you’re getting an early start on tomorrow’s clean-up. I’ll be quick. I know what I want.

Slam! Bam! Time warp.

Another late night at the shop, hours seemingly sucked completely away like dirt in a Dyson with the rollerball.

The other image would have been another time warp, given that I thought there was no activity on the Main Street renovation. I just hadn’t been paying close enough attention, since it began at the south end of the district. In truth, they’ve dug up a lot of pavement on Main, and have almost readied the east side from Commercial to Dallas.

Bam! Nah. No time warp, this time. Unless that fellow in the picture with the metal detector brings up something hidden under the dirt since the time Main Street left dirt behind in favor of asphalt.

Come visit! (Don’t waste time…)

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow, OK!