Time May Change Me, But I Can’t Change Time

I had no idea that daylight savings time was set to begin this weekend until Thursday when I stumbled across some random heads-up notice somewhere during my travels on the Internet. Doesn’t it usually happen later? Or maybe earlier? How come it took me so long to figure it out? Am I that preoccupied with everything else that’s going on that I would have gone for hours on Sunday operating an hour behind everyone else before I figured it out?

I pretty much run an hour behind the rest of the world these days anyway, so I guess that wouldn’t have made a big difference. But I certainly would have felt like a bigger idiot than usual.

This is the time change that really hurts – loosing that hour is a twist of the knife for the already overtired people among us in the world. We need that hour. We were going to use that hour for something, anything, even cleaning the house or cooking a meal in advance of the week ahead (or, to be completely honest, doing absolutely nothing at all). But now that precious hour will be lost to us forever, or at least until whenever it is in the fall when we gain it back again.

I know it will mess with the kids’ sleep schedules, too. All my friends who are moms and I will be grousing about it on Facebook throughout the day on Sunday. I guess if my daughter normally wakes up at 6:30 a.m., then she’ll be rising and shining at 7:30 a.m. That actually sounds better than it is somehow. All I know is that I’ll be dragging my way through the day and into Monday, at least.

Of course, to give all that ink to grousing I have to go on and admit that the silver lining to daylight savings time is the glorious extra hour of daylight that will stretch way into the evening as the weather gets warmer. But it’s not until sometime in June that we have the longest day of the year. I have a lot of time to grumble about it until then.