Among the many "why?"s I have...

1.) With all the possible interfaces (QWERTY keyboards, mouse wheels, iPod dials, touch-screen drag-n-drop and 3D Wii interaction), why is the most effective timer in the house still the one on the stove?

2.) Again, given the plethora of memory-augmenting gadgetry, why is the most reliable means of jogging my pre-caffeinated brain a matter of putting something in front of the door?

I mean, it's not like I wanna go all William Gibson-ish with nano-chips or whatever in my head and all that. But. When a relatively inexpensive smart-phone can web-browse, message, email (for private and/or work accounts), play music (and maybe video), take photos, double as a flashlight, and tell you who you know (and probably what they just said on Twitter or Facebook), well...that adds up to a lot of distraction. And a corresponding need to stay on track.

It's probably just a testament to my own dorkiness, how fascinated I was with the little plastic counter (ones, tens, hundreds) that Grandma--Mom's Mom--used to record her stitches in knitting/crocheting (because, after raising seven kids, distraction becomes a lifestyle). Ditto the hourglass-style egg-timer on the windowsill behind my Great Aunt Verna's stove.

Simple devices both, with equally simple interfaces. Because multi-tasking (and, thus, the need to keep oneself on track) is hardly a new phenomenon. If you tried suggesting its novelty to my party-line, pre-microwave, wringer-washer, whitewashed root cellar ancestresses, I won't say that they'd laugh in your face. But that's only because they were Midwestern Nice--almost to a fault.

And, so, this rather flibbertygibbety scion of their otherwise hardy bloodline can't help but wonder why the titans of gadgetry try to one-up each other in the power to distract. That just doesn't make any sense...at least for those who (as my Grandmas and Great Aunts would probably say) "need a keeper."