Daylight Savings time is such a bitch. “Fall Back” especially is such a tease. Sure, Sunday is kind of nice with its extra hour, but it’s Sunday. Sunday is, by definition, an extra hour. Look it up.
So I spend my entire Sunday carefully avoiding clocks. My cell phone betrayed me by changing without my permission, but that’s easy to avoid because no one is going to call me anyway. I turn the clock on my Macbook to “analog” because Lord knows I can’t tell time on one of those things. At least not at a glance. Now is not the time to berate myself for being a member of the “stupid generation”—I’ve got my body to fool.
I proceed to go about business as usual. I consciously eat my meals at the “same” time I always do. I watch TV the same way. I nap the same way. I drink wine at night the same way. If everything’s the same today, then tomorrow will feel special, I think to myself. Persistence is key!
But no, 6:45 AM still feels like fucking 6:45 AM. I lost! I tried so hard, but I lost!
I guess I should be amazed at my body’s willingness to adapt to its environment. But I’m not. I’m pissed off. And I’m tired.
I’ve been going through this exact same song and dance since grade school, and it has never worked. I am the personified definition of insanity.
“Spring Forward,” however, always gets me. Every single time.
I think there’s a life lesson buried in there somewhere, but I don’t want to find it.