Jackie Wells-Fauth
I’m sorry if I am a little grumpy this week, but I am definitely missing sleep and it’s all the fault of whoever decided to save daylight – or steal it, as the case may be!
Now before some well-meaning soul attempts to justify the theft of this time by explaining why daylights savings time is important, let me tell you that I know all about the reasoning behind it and I still continue to insist: my body doesn’t buy it.
You wouldn’t think the theft of one hour would be such a big deal, but it throws everything else off: instead of going to bed at 11 pm, I’m now trying to go at 10 pm—or is it12 midnight? I am so tired, I can’t work it out. In any case, when I get up in the morning after this yearly raid of time takes place, I know that my morning light is gone and my body is grabbing for the covers, lobbying for one more hour in bed!
The first evening of the switch is also disconcerting: “I want to remember to watch my favorite Sunday night show. It will be on at 7:00,” I tell my husband.
“It WAS on at 7:00, that was an hour ago,” he replies.
“What? It can’t be! The sun is still up! Darn it! There’s nothing good on at 8:00,” I whine.
“I’m glad you feel that way, because it’s already 8:30.”
“I do NOT like this sudden evening light,” I proclaim. “There’s evil in it. God wouldn’t want me to miss my favorite shows.”
“Well, don’t worry, it will be black as pitch when you get up in the morning, so there’s your darkness,” he really means to be comforting.
“First, they keep it light so long in the evening, that I miss my television show and now you’re telling me that I’ve lost my morning sun (isn’t there a song about that?). There is just no end to the bad news. And it’s all because of the nefarious one-hour theft of time.”
Roy goes back to his reading—without the aid of a lamp. He’s heard all of this whining and complaining and drama before, so he recognizes the futility of continuing the conversation.
It does offer one benefit: I can say to anyone who asks: “Yes, I was going to get that room painted, put in some time at the gym, finally clean that closet that is spilling out into the hall, get my life together, etc., but someone stole the hour I was going to use for that, so, those things will just have to wait.”
It’s a sure thing that for the next week, I will be dragging and tired and grumpy as my body struggles to add one more brick to the wall of reasons why I don’t get a good night sleep. By the end of the week (which is Friday the 13th by the way) I will have adjusted somewhat, and I may even start to like that extra light time in the evenings, but the abrupt theft of time is still traumatizing.
There really ought to be some sort of compensation for having to go through this. They should set up stations throughout the country containing soothing aid for those going through the daylight savings change. Maybe they could have coffee and cookies and dare I suggest—extra naps for the first few weeks? Just something to acknowledge how hard this is on the citizenry. Maybe I would be more receptive to the change if I was holding a glamour cup of coffee and a few sugar cookies—and some chocolate chip cookies—oh, and maybe a brownie or two! Yes, I very much like this idea; perhaps someone could suggest it to the legislature?
I know this column has been very bizarre, but living through the daylights savings time change is also just a little bit bizarre. Isn’t this sort of like time traveling? People like my husband just don’t understand it—they adjust so seamlessly, but not me. And the worst thing Roy should have done right now is try and cheer me up about it.
“You know, you get this hour back when the fall comes and we go back to regular standard time,” he observed during the worst of my ravings.
“What! They can’t! By then, I’ll be used to a lot of light in the evenings, and I won’t be able to adjust! Why are they doing this to me????!!!!!”
Happy Daylights Savings Time everyone. By this time next week, I might even mean it!
dropsinthewell 