Check Me Into the Loony Bin

I love my grandparents house. It is warm and inviting in an old person cozy kind of way. The only thing that drives me CRAZY and I mean Julie Andrews on the top of a mountain screaming like a mental patient kind of crazy is the clocks. In every room and sometimes more than one there are clocks and not the really nice silent digital clocks, no nothing quiet so modern. These are ancient where gears and belts that squeak and wail so loudly that the noise, the noise just seeps into my brain paralyzing it with the need to take a baseball bat to them all.

And then the worst thing is that every fifteen minutes all these old clocks chime and bong and beep and whistle letting you know that ANOTHER fifteen minutes has gone by. It would maybe a little more bearable if they were synchronized but they are not. Instead they all chime at different times. First one starts and then as the minutes tick by a cascade of annoying horrible loud sounds fill my ears. Thirty seconds into it I am resisting the urge to jump out of bed head first because a head trauma would feel good right about now.