It’s About Time.
I MUST BE GETTING OLD. If I don’t get my sleep I am no better than a caged squirrel.
When they (not me) start adding and subtracting hours in the day they are toying with my very existence. If I want to sleep until 7 AM don’t tell me all of a sudden that it is 8 AM or, even worse, 6 AM. My body just can’t take that without putting up an argument. Get me up too early and I am nothing more than a reasonable facsimile.
It was not that long ago when we started up again with that Daylight Savings thing again. An hour ripped out of my life. I’m old and I don’t have that many hours left to play around with. I am jealously protective of every one of those hours. I don’t waste them. I don’t give them away and I don’t like having them taken away from me in the middle of the night.
If this Daylight Savings business is so innocuous and harmless why do they have to sneak around copping one of my hours at two o’clock in the morning? If you’re so proud of your work do it at Noon while the sun is shining and everyone can see you in action.
When I had an hour stolen from me recently it really threw me for a temporal loop. I wanted to get up at about…at about time enough to make tea for my wife and then go to St. Arbucks. It didn’t happen. That hijacked hour screwed up everything. I overslept or underslept. It was hard to tell. I got up, I made the tea and then promptly fell asleep sitting at the kitchen table. That is no way to start a day. Kitchen table chairs are not designed for comfortable sleeping. It messed up my entire day. I never did make it to St. Arbucks for coffee.
Oh, the horror!
Because I never got my morning coffee I had to settle for tea. I hold the people in charge of Time Theft personally responsible.
It also made me grumpy…as you may have noticed here. It has been some time and I am still out of sorts. What sort of sorts I’m out of I’m not sure, but I am out of them. Of that I am sure – sort of.
I know, I know it’s just one hour and it will be returned this Winter. Come November my stolen hour will be slipped back to me under the door in the darkness of night. Well, thank you very much. What am I supposed to do with one used hour? I could have used that hour a couple of weeks ago when I was running late for an appointment.
Oh, well – no matter how much I complain, female dog and moan about this no one is going to change things for me. I am outnumbered. I don’t have the necessary connections to get anything done about anything. I can barely get my mail delivered.
I’m going to go take a nap for about an hour. I’m going to lock the door so nobody can sneak in and take another hour away from me.
Down the Hall on Your Left 
I get the ‘old’ part. And, you’re right. I missed that hour this year as I never have before, and it got dark in the morning, again. On the plus side, because it is dark, the driver’s’ headlight shine brightly on my reflective coat so I can be seen crossing the kids and I can be better seen. Of course, that assumes drivers are paying attention, in the first place.
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