I'm not sure if I've ever shared this before, but my dad is a retired NYC sanitation worker. He's the one I credit with my love of junk. He brought home lots of great stuff (and some not-so-great stuff) when he was working and he still pulls out treasures from time to time that I've never seen.
When I was visiting for Christmas, there was a little vintage clock that my parents had been arguing over for a while. I guess it ticks too loudly for my mom and she'd banished it to the garage. This being the case, my dad gave it to me.
The two legs on the left are broken off so my dad taped a little block of wood to it, but I think its adorable and I couldn't care less about the minor imperfection. I also don't wind it because for such a tiny clock, it is loud!