When I was a kid, I collected cow stuff. Cow calendars, cow stuffed animals, cow print stuff, you get the picture. One of my favorite things was my cow alarm clock. I saw it at JCPenney, and it was $49.99, which is a ridiculous price for an alarm clock in general, but if you’re ten, is really a lot! Saving up for that clock meant eschewing purchasing all those awesome Lisa Frank stickers, glitter erasers, and Sanrio pencil cases that I was so fond of. But I was determined to save my allowance, and in a couple of short months, bought the clock.
I named him Arnold, because he sounded exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger. The alarm was a cow bell (it actually scared me awake for years) followed by a moo and then “Wake up! Don’t sleep your life away!” Picture Governor Schwarzenegger saying that to you. That’s what my clock sounded like.
Anyway, Arnold was a good and faithful servant up until only a few months ago, when a corroded battery (Kirkland brand, if you were wondering) cut his charmed life short. And until yesterday, Arnold sat mutely on my nightstand, gathering dust, but still watching over me every night. I couldn’t just throw him away. He’s not an old, broken clock. He’s more like a vintage cow figurine now.
By the way, that kind of reasoning is why I’m a cat carcass and a few Hummels shy of being featured on Hoarders. I knew I had to let Arnold go. So I asked my dad to take care of it. That conversation went something like this:
“Lisa, just throw it away.”
“DAD…I can’t. I mean, haven’t you seen the Toy Story movies? I can’t just throw him away! This is his home.”
“Lis, he’s the one who gave up on you. It’s not like you asked much of him…just to tell the time once or twice a day. It’s time to say ‘hasta la vista’ to Arnold.”