I particularly like my current watch. It’s an unusual thing, intended for oldsters who have to take a lot of pills and might suddenly visit a hospital emergency room. It has twelve nameable alarms (I use a lot of them), and a medic-alert button that can tell doctors what I’m allergic to. (Actually, the manufacturer appears to have designed this feature to make it easy for others to steal my identity; the watch asks for my name, address, birth date and soc-sec number, but I’m too clever to enter all that.)
The watch came with a plastic wristband that I have never liked. It chafed. And chafed. But I endured it for almost exactly two years, until the little retaining cross-band on the wristband broke. I declared the wristband unsafe, and I went out and bought a genuine leather watchband that feels wonderful. For $5.98. Why did I wait so long?
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