The house with a clock in its walls.

I have an OG mantle clock that's been in my family since 1848. At first, it sat and ran in the dining room, but its hourly chime would drown out the television in the next room, which got to be annoying. So I just stopped winding it, and for a couple of years it sat silent, frozen at 4:07. When we replaced the card table we'd been using as a dining-room table with a real dining-room table, the bookcase the clock had sat upon had to go out, so the clock went into the guest bedroom, where again it sat silent. This weekend, I finally got around to shimming and leveling the clock so it could run again. The wall the clock backs up to adjoins the bathroom; now in the bathroom is an ever-present, omniscient tock, tock, tock. It is the house with a clock in its walls, measuring off the minutes until doomsday.

These are the things I think of when I pee.