120: Stuck

 The pocketwatch seemed to be stuck. I was holding it in my hand, but as soon as I pressed the button on the side, it became stuck. I couldn't move it. I slowly opened my hand and lowered it. The pocketwatch hung in midair where I'd left it. This shouldn't be possible. I stared at it. It was no longer ticking. In fact, it was quiet. Everything was quiet. I couldn't hear the traffic outside or my family downstairs shouting back and forth to one another. I listened, but there was nothing. I reached out to the watch again, prodding it. I wrapped my fingers around it and pulled. Very slowly, with much effort, I was able to bring it towards me. But as soon as I stopped, it was stuck again. I pressed the button on the side a second time and the watch dropped into my hand and I was knocked over by the sudden overwhelming sensation of sound - the cars, the kids, the ice cream truck, a plane overhead, my dad downstairs yelling to my mom. 

It couldn't be, right? I had read a book about a magic pocketwatch when I was a kid, but now here in my my grandfather's house, going through his old things, I had to be imagining things. Pocketwatches that could stop time were a thing of fantasy, right?

I dropped the pocketwatch into my pocket, climbed down the ladder from the attic and headed downstairs to where my mom was inventorying furniture and my dad was looking through my grandfather's file cabinet.  I ran past both, threw open the front door, reached into my pocket, pressed the button. 

and.
everything.
stopped.  

Well, this was going to be fun.

"120" is the umbrella under which I place my creative writing (it's been a long time! Again!) - it refers to one of the practices: writing for 120 seconds on a single topic with no chance to go back and edit - there may be mistakes, typos, embarrassing spelling errors.  Such is the nature.  I might continue writing after the timer ends, but it's about sitting down and writing something. (This one didn't go according to plan, I kept getting interrupted. Oh well, at least I wrote something.) Click here to read more 120s.

Program Your Sleep

I recently wanted to clear up space on my nightstand, so I moved my CPAP machine to one of the drawers in the nightstand. When it's not in use, I can curl the hose up in the drawer and close the drawer most of the way (only the power cord prevents full closure).  

I never really used the drawer, so it still has a fresh woodsy smell. So now so does the air that the CPAP machine brings in.   When I was replacing the air filter the other day, it hit me:

What if there were scented air filters or oils for CPAP machines?

Naturally, I threw a bag of coffee in the drawer.  But, what if there was a new opportunity here?

In the simplest form, you could have vanilla or lavender or any number of those scents they put in candles.

Most CPAPs have a compartment for distilled water, with a heater underneath to warm the water. I don't know if it would mess it up to have scented oils or Vicks Vaporub in the same compartment to deliver smells/medicine to you while you slept. Because if you could, a fancy CPAP machine could release different smells at different times, allowing you to program your sleep.  Maybe you start off with the smell of evergreens and after a few hours, the smell of the ocean and right before your alarm goes off, coffee or toast. This could launch a whole new line of premium CPAP machines.