The times, they are a-changin' too often

Annie Dear
The Independent Aussie
Annie Dear

Now, I hate to bring a negative tone to this paper, but, Daylight Saving. Can we get over it now?

Oh, I don’t mind the clocks going forward at all – but this "fall back" business has officially become very old in my book.

Saturday night I thought I’d be super intelligent and set a little analog clock in the bathroom back before I went to bed, safe in the knowledge my alarm clock was a clever little bugger and automatically caught up with the vagaries of man manipulating time.

I awoke in the wee small hours and resignedly got up to visit the facilities. 3.30 a,m. Not too bad, I thought. I can still fall back asleep, no worries.

But the old-fashioned clock in the bathroom told me it was 2.30am. Did I set it back, or had I mistakenly set it forward? What time was it really? Had I only been asleep a couple of hours? I hate it when something makes me think at that time of day. I don’t want to, because one thought leads to another, and all of a sudden, my brain is in 8 a.m. mode and ready for the day. The old body takes a bit more time to catch up.  .Pity my alarm clock didn’t self-correct, I huffed.

I used to be a champion sleeper-innerer. I could’ve gone on the lecture circuit and given classes on “how to.” Now? Nope. 5.30 seems to be my inner clock, no matter the day, and certainly no matter that in a random move my 5.30 becomes 4.30 on this stupid day.

Sir was up equally early. I am very much a “don’t utter a peep until I’ve had a cup of coffee” morning person, but Sir decided this was a perfect time to reset the analog clock in the kitchen. It’s a tricky old thing to get back on the hook, and this year it flummoxed him. Before my first gulp of caffeine, or even the first clue solved in The New York Times crossword, I found myself in the garage finding a new hook.

This is far too much activity far too early in the morning for me. I might have been a tad on the terse side as I aided and abetted the rehanging of the clock. Just a tad. I mean, really. Why do we need the blessed thing when there are clocks everywhere else in the kitchen? The microwave, the oven, the barometer, our iPads and our phones. I’m sure Shakespeare would have agreed with me. "How do I tell the time? Let me count the ways." Let me go buy a nice Manet to fill the space.

And then, to add insult to injury, you have to limp through this interminable day absolutely sure that it’s an hour later than it is.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I was just a cross puppy all day Sunday. This will not do. I had to wait till 3 when the Chiefs were playing so I could go to the relatively empty store without murdering a lane-blocking shopper or a bemused father trying to figure out whether it was a swede or a turnip.

Let’s just leave the clocks permanently forward, shall we? By the time winter grabs us by the unmentionables somebody’s going to work in the dark, or getting home in the dark. My curtains won’t fade, I promise.

A bright spark posted a very pithy saying online: “Wanting an extra hour in 2021 is like wanting an additional track on a Yoko Ono album." Amen.

Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at anniedear@icloud.com.