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| Out of sorts. But not Emo malaise. |
It has come to my attention- and not for the first time, either- that the institution of Daylight Savings is a terrible idea. Truly awful.
Lemme ‘splain.
1. Neither I, nor anyone in my immediate family or scope of reference, has now or at any time been A FARMER. I care not about an extra hour of crop harvestin’. Or an hour less. (I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHICH ONE IT BENEFITS.) All know is that it is now getting dark at 4:30pm. And my internal clock has no idea when Jeopardy should be on.
2. Babies and/or toddlers have no respect for this time change. They still get up when they get up- except now it can happen as early as 5am. Naptime has the potential to blend with lunchtime, sometimes rendering both events nonexistent. You know what’s better than a two year-old who has forgone eating and sleeping?
Absolutely anything you could list. Anything is better than that.
3. There is the distinct possibility that you’ll forget to change at least one crucial time-telling device in your home- sometimes it’s the car- leaving one with an awfully Twighlight Zoney feeling (at best) and gut-clenching panic at one’s own tardiness (at worst). Or it can manifest itself as a vaguely uneasy confusion every time one checks a clock. I readily admit, this could just be me.
4. Even an hour difference makes me feel like I’ve just taken the red eye from Brussels. And jet lag without even getting served international airline food is not any jet lag worth having, thankyouverymuch.
I like my hours ordered the way they’re supposed to be. 7, 8, 9am- I like those hours to look like those hours and feel like them when I see my phone display. 4, 5, 6am- I don’t like those hours, overmuch, but I’d prefer to not be shocked by them.
Well, no more shocked than the startling realization that, between those hours, I’ve become a veritable 7-11 for the snacky newborn set.
But that’s a different Letter Of Great Concern.
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