I went in the bathroom for a quick bath and glanced at the clock. 10:53? How did I lose 3 hours already? Wait. The clock isn’t moving. The battery must have died last night at 10:53. Phew.

I carried a sticky 4-year-old to the bathroom sink to remove several layers of PB&J. As he played in the soap bubbles, my eyes were drawn to the clock. 10:53? Why did I feed Evan lunch so early? He’ll want dinner at 3 in the afternoon. Oh. I forgot to change the clock battery. Crisis averted.

Covered in the bug spray necessary to clean in the garage, I went in the bathroom to scrub the stinky chemicals off of my arms and legs. 10:53? I haven’t even eaten dinner. Sigh. Battery.

Add half a dozen additional incidents of stupidity until Doug ceases to be amused by my mild histrionics and the clock battery is changed. “Should I set the correct time or leave it at 10:53?”