Watch

I'm usually about as sentimental about my things as Chuck Norris is about his boots. But over Christmas break I had to say goodbye to my watch.

For a moment, please imagine a movie with a beautiful horse, a beautifuler young girl who rides it every day, and her brother who can't ever remember to feed the chickens. The girl becomes a horse jockey in an effort to win prize money to save the family farm. Of course, she has to race against the horse and jockey of some rich guy that looks a lot like Kingpin, but lacks the threatening pants. And, of course, the horse breaks its leg and has to be put down.

This is the same basic tragedy, with a few plot substitutions:
Tender little girl = Bryan
Horse = Ironman Triathlon Watch
Saving the farm = Reminding Bryan to remove ginger snaps from the oven
Breaking Leg = Failing to beep when timer reached zero

The watch was on my wrist continuously from my sixteenth birthday until Christmas 2008, except for while sleeping and showering. In that third of my life, we went through four batteries and over ten wrist bands. It's been there for every date I've ever been on, every moment of a four year degree, and an entire mission. But once it let my ginger snaps overcook, it was all over between us. I had flashbacks to Toy Story II as I left the once precious object to be forgotten in a box until the next yard sale. It's been replaced with the new version of the Ironman Triathlon, which is mostly identical, but with blue buttons.