In Writing

This morning I woke up sluggish and I didn’t understand why.  I checked my phone and it said 8:00 a.m., around the time I usually wake up on a weekend, and definitely too late to feel that groggy.  I turned on the t.v. and lounged for a while, then got moving.

It wasn’t until I was in my car that I understood the problem.  Somehow, news of daylight savings time had eluded me, probably because the weather here feels like spring is nowhere in sight.  (Except for some sightings of green shoots in the garden yesterday when the temperature went up for the first time in forever).  I had been robbed of hour’s sleep not at gunpoint, as usual, but while I was on vacation.

Here’s when I figured out the problem:  I have no clocks not plugged in to the collective. It’s the matrix of time-telling at my house, with all of my information derived from my cell phone and, occasionally, my t.v. or laptop.  Both of these update automatically, without giving me a clue that they’ve just spun the Earth on its axis an hour ahead for me.  Shouldn’t they throw up an alert or something?  What if they just start messing with me and make it an hour later and earlier every day just to drive me mad?  I have no independent means of corroborating what time it is except the clock in my car.  So if you see me living in my car one day, you’ll know why.

On the upside… daylight!

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