"Frank," his wife said, "did you remember to turn back the clock?"
"Oh, I forgot about that, Myrna."
"Well, better do it now. We want to be sure we're at the right time."
Frank moved from room to room, resetting clocks, but Frank's arthritis was making it difficult, and his hand kept slipping. Every time he tried to turn the clock back, it jumped a few hours. Then it jumped an entire day.
"Myrna," he called, "it's yesterday."
"What do you mean, Frank?"
"I mean, I was resetting the time, and it jumped back a whole day. Wait a minute, Myrna--now we're back in July."
"You know, it actually feels like that. It's so warm! And look outside at the garden!"
"Myrna, I turned the clock some more, and we're in 1975!"
"Oh, Frank--that was such a good year! And you're looking young and slim again!"
"What year would you like it to be?"
"I think my favourite year was 1962."
"Well, here we are--1962 again!"
"Oh, Frank--we've set the right time!'