I was mad at myself for spending too much on a clock I didn’t need. Here’s what calmed me down
At first, Ms Yvonne Kong-Ho stewed over her uncharacteristically impulsive buy. Then, after a year in which she had grappled with two serious medical emergencies, she now appreciates her pricey new timepiece in a new light.

Ms Yvonne Kong-Ho looking at a wall clock she had bought in 2024. (Photo: CNA/Ooi Boon Keong)
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When we first got married, my husband and I made a subconscious decision to do away with wall clocks. Instead, we adorned the walls of our new home with wedding photos and artworks significant to us.
Some years later, out of consideration for an older family member who needed a visual reference for keeping track of time, we got a wall clock. It was an analogue thing with big, bold numbers and it threw off our entire minimalist aesthetic. I hardly looked at it, preferring to check the time on my smartwatch or phone.
I didn’t realise it then, but this clunky, unartistic device was the truest embodiment of my past relationship with time.
Back then, time was functional, lived out task by task: Time to feed the children and take them to school, time to prepare dinner, time to pack the school bags for the next day, time to clear the last round of email messages before bed.
When the children were growing up, we traded out the analogue clock for a digital one, because numbers were easier for them to understand than the somewhat abstract hour-and-minute hands.
Then, once everybody in the house got old enough for smartphones, we did away with the digital clock, too.
NEW APPRECIATION
A few months ago, my husband and I walked past a shop selling watches and clocks. Unexpectedly, I found myself ensnared by the window display and we went in there.
Looking at the items in this store felt like a visceral experience. I saw, for the first time, how each clock was unique – the shapes, the sizes of the faces, the positioning of the numbers, the size or even absence of numbers for some. Each one showed the same time, but in its own different way.
I was a little surprised at how expensive they’ve become, running well into the hundreds. How can a simple device displaying a simple number command such a price?
Nevertheless, I just could not take my eyes off one clock in particular. Even with the generous discount on offer, the price was still an amount I never would have considered forking out for something as banal as a wall clock.
Yet, I found myself thinking twice about this one. I rationalised that it was a premium Japanese brand, much higher quality than the everyday clock.
“Perhaps it could last forever,” I thought. “Perhaps it could become a family heirloom I pass down to my grandchildren in future.” (This is how we start justifying unusual purchases when we reach a certain age.)
We paid for it and took it home. To my delight, it looked absolutely perfect on our wall, like it had belonged in our home forever, instead of just a few minutes.
Basking in the afterglow of my splurge, I felt happy – fulfilled, even. A beautiful wall clock felt like not just the perfect finishing touch to our family’s living room, but our very lives.

RUDE AWAKENING
That night, while getting ready for bed, I went online and googled the clock out of curiosity. To my surprise and horror, it would’ve been S$100 cheaper if I’d bought it from an online retailer.
Miffed at myself for making such an emotional purchasing decision, I closed the search tab and told myself I would never again make such a silly mistake.
The next day, I woke up much calmer, but once I stepped into the living room and saw the clock, all the annoyance of the previous night returned. Don’t get me wrong, I still thought the clock was so beautiful, but I couldn’t get over being upset.
“What a bad deal you let yourself get into,” I thought. “Haven’t you long outgrown such unwise antics by now?”
But the more I stewed over the price of my new clock, the deeper I found myself ruminating on the value of time itself.
In 2024, I was hospitalised twice – once due to an emergency hysterectomy and again due to a small bowel intestinal obstruction that quickly became a life-threatening medical issue. I spent weeks confined to a bed, hooked up to tubes and apparatus that were keeping me alive.
Before these incidents, I used to think that I could “suspend” time, that it would wait for me till I wasn’t “too busy” to live out my dreams.
But now I see that I can’t afford to keep thinking this way. Time is a precious gift, one that can easily be lost or taken away from us at any moment.

TOO LATE FOR DREAMS?
Around the same time I bought my new wall clock, I was wrestling with a major career decision: Should I leave a stable, full-time job to focus on completing my PhD studies?
Some people thought I was out of my mind, pursuing “dreams” at this age and stage of my life. Some thought I was jeopardising my children's well-being.
I knew I wanted to pursue my studies, but I was terrified. What if the naysayers and doubters were right?
I sought advice from a trusted mentor, who wisely told me we ought to be "strategic about the time and tasks" we have on Earth to fulfil the callings given to us.
That line shot right into my heart. The very next morning, I decided to take a leap of faith and leave my full-time position.
A few months on, I can say that it has been one of the most powerful decisions I’ve ever made in my life. I’m acutely aware of a renewed sense of purpose, not just in my career, but my life.
NO OVERTIME
Time is indeed costly – both literally and figuratively.
I know this well, but I still struggle with procrastination every day (“I’ll exercise when I have more time”, “I’ll clear out the storeroom later”). Most Sunday nights, I reflect on my past week and find myself wishing I had made better use of my time.
These days, when I look at my beautiful wall clock, I no longer resent myself for it. I see it now as a reminder of how precious and ephemeral time is.
I plan celebrations ahead of time, no matter how big or small. I’ve stopped rushing through my meals in front of my work laptop, instead taking time to enjoy and savour every bite.
Instead of squeezing them in where free pockets of time pop up, I schedule my new "non-negotiables" into my calendar – fitness time, couple time, one-on-one dates with my children.
I’ve been making it a point to schedule things just for me, too: Exploring a new genre of music or books, checking out new recipes, learning a new craft. Things that may not be “productive” but give me joy.
Of course, like any gift, we don’t have to appreciate time to its fullest, but if we’re prepared to waste it, we must also be prepared for the painful consequences.
For each of us, the clock is always ticking. Extra time is never given to us. We have to learn to take it – to make decisions and actions to choose ourselves and our loved ones.
And to you, dear reader, I hope you don’t have to buy an expensive clock of your own to appreciate this message. (Unless you want to, that is.)
Yvonne Kong-Ho is an associate faculty in a university. She is also pursuing PhD studies part-time.
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