There are several things that symbolize “the good life” for me. One of them is a clock that projects the time onto the ceiling in huge red numbers:
(I took the photo from my bed last night).
Many people would freak out if they had the time hovering above their faces in red all night long. I, however, achieve bliss when I see it. The ceiling just doesn’t look as good when there are no red figures on it:
The funny thing is that my sister has the same clock and she feels exactly the same about it. There must be a psychoanalytic explanation for this obsession with seeing the time hover above one’s bed but I’m too lazy to look for it.



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