For the times they are a changin’
This week everything gets blamed on the time change, an event which completely slipped my notice until 10:30 Sunday morning, which was actually 11:30, which meant that I had already lost an hour because I thought it was a nice mid-morning time when really it was a late-morning time.
If I forget something, it’s because of the time change. If I’m sleepy or if I can’t sleep it’s because of the time change.
The time change makes me hungry. The time change causes me to be dissatisfied with work. I question my life and my place in the world.
I will mutter to myself that it will now get light earlier in the morning and stay light later at night…then I’ll work through the rather complicated scenario that if it was getting light out at 6:15 a.m., now it will be 7:15 a.m., so it won’t get light until then, making it stay dark later in the morning. Then I’ll feel confused and ashamed of my George W. Bush mentality and will probably just stare at the clock for a while. Maybe I’ll say “shucks” or “newculer” for good measure.
I’ll mention the time change to my sister at least once since we both are time-change challenged and it is our special sisterly joke.
Maybe I’ll only listen to time-themed songs like Time (the Revelator), Big Time and The Good Times Are Killing Me.
And for the next few days when I glance at the clock and see it’s 2:07, I’ll think to myself “yeah, but really it’s only 1:07.”
Damn you time change. Why do you plague me so?