Daylight

I really wanted to back this post out yesterday.  However, in my addled and sleep-interrupted state I could barely remember my own name and felt grateful that I’d remembered to put on pants before showing up for work.  You see, steady readers, a perfect storm of events – usually known as Karma – conspired to bitchslap me silly yesterday.

By the way, this is not a rant against or even about Daylight Savings Time.  I personally think it’s a great idea, right up there with pockets on shirts and sliced bread (too bad I don’t eat bread anymore).  I’ve always loved the ‘Springing Forward’ part, when I could play outside longer or continue to squeeze in more yardwork or grilling.  The best was living in Fort Knox, on the Western side of the Eastern Time Zone.  The daylight went on until past nine at night.

Fast forward to this weekend.  First, only blind chance reminded of me on Sunday that we’d collectively (except for you, Arizona) ‘Fallen Back.’  Sort of like backing it up, or twerking, neither of which I can possibly execute well.  I realized it had been 9AM for an hour, and did facepalm and thanked my Android phone for being smart where I was not.  I dutifully reset every clock, appliance and LED-having time-thingy in the house.  Then I proceeded to work my ass off for the rest of the day.

Interesting fact #1 about the Rants Alarm Clock: it has a little button that automatically switches from DST to Standard.  Total win!  However, it also happens to move the alarm back at the same time.  The alarm time is not displayed, by the way.  So, fatigued already, I declared victory and took a dent out of a case of beer.  That night, I managed to thrash off my CPAP and so I did not truly sleep.

Monday morning, the usual Noise From Hell woke me and I did my Braille routine of chemistry, ablutions and mindless wandering until I happened to see the stove clock: 3:45.  Fabulous.  My options were to attempt to figure out the alarm and rescue the remainder of the hour, or just be brave.  In the end, my ass decided for me – after two days of hauling heavy stuff up and down four flights of stairs, my hips, ass and thighs felt like a rusty set of guitar strings tightened past the fuck-me point.

Ever had one of those days when it took you all day just to wake up?