Usually, you set a clock and that’s it. It goes. A cuckoo clock is different. One day it speeds up and the next it slows down. I’m always fussing with mine. It’s like a pet needing attention.
Of course, pulling the weights keeps it going, remembering that chore is the only way it keeps time.
The dangling weights are hooked up a bit here. Car-E wanted to play with them, but tucked up halfway he mostly ignores them. When I pull them down in the morning, and he’s attracted to the wiggling chain and metal pine cone. It’s time to distract that cat with another toy.
Once in a while, this cuckoo clock stops for no reason at all. Only after some attention can I get it running again. I sure miss it when it stops ticking.
My husband was a soft-spoken guy except when it came to stubborn machinery. Then he would let the sharp words fly, but only if he was alone.
Of course, Bob forgot that sometimes others could hear his colorful words.
The kids laugh after hearing him working in our basement alone. Their dad’s words didn’t stop at the basement ceiling but floated into our living room where everyone could hear him. Bob never realized this, until he heard the kids laughing.
If Bob was really having a bad time with machinery, I’d head out and help. My hands would fit where his didn’t. Many days we were both covered with grease and oil. On a few rare occasions, I found solutions for him, that was because I didn’t know what I was doing and found interesting ways to address problems.