Save Me From Daylight Savings

I am a night owl. I can’t be one right now, but once I am retired and can claim my life 24/7, I’ll be up all night, or most of it, and the clock will cease to matter.

I know, I know. It shouldn’t matter now, but it does—never more than on those notorious weekends known for the infamous “time change”. Like this one. I started winding up a week ago, grumbling and muttering at folks cheerily espousing the extra hour of daylight as if it’s a gift. There is no “extra hour” of daylight, people. There’s just a shift in the distribution.

Being a night owl, I am by default not a morning person. A sun that was up before me last week will rise tomorrow after I get to work ... and that vexes me. Terribly.

I know, I know. If I relax and wait a few weeks, the sun will once more be up before I am. In fact, the birds will be awake before the three-year-old who lives downstairs, and by either means, I will still be dragged from dreamland against my preference to sleep until I can’t sleep anymore. Someone who gets into her jammies as soon as she gets home from work doesn’t need the sun to set after nine o’clock. I need it to set before nine o’clock, when I go to bed!

Some night owl. I can’t stay awake past the three-year-old who lives downstairs. That’s my love/hate relationship with time. I get up at crap o’clock because my job demands it—the best job (if not the best money) I ever had was working the graveyard at the local radio station. I’d get home at 6:30 a.m., go straight to bed, get up at 1:00 p.m. and have a life until I left for work at 11:00 p.m. On days off, I kept the routine and stayed up to write all night. I was never more prolific than I was in those days. If only the salary had been as good as my current day job’s. I guess we all make sacrifices to get ahead.

But the spectre of daylight savings continues to goad me. I’m not wild about the return to standard time, either, except it gives me back the hour I’ve missed since early March. Every spring, I ask the question: Why? Why why why why do we continue with this stupid ritual?

It seems I am not alone. There is finally talk of abandoning the time change. The west coast States are considering it, and if they go ahead, BC will follow because of trade agreements and partnerships that demand we all work within the same time zone. California has already voted overwhelmingly in favour of staying on DST starting in 2022. Whatever, guys, just bring it.

Wait a minute. Staying on DST? That means turning the clocks forward in March and not turning them back in November! WTF?

Remember, Ru, says my inside voice, there is no “extra hour” of daylight. There’s just a shift in the distribution. Eventually, the days shorten on their own and it will be dark well in time for bed. Staying on DST means you’ll be walking home from the bus stop at twilight instead of pitch black in December.

Yeah, but it also means the sun will be coming up at nine in the morning! I’m all for abandoning daylight savings time, but let’s switch back to standard first. I mean—wait a minute. 2022? Oh. Okay. Whatever works.

I’ll be retired and a night owl by then.

Spring Forward

*sigh*

I am reminded of a quote by pirate Captain Jack Sparrow:

“The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.”

Every spring, I am faced with Daylight Savings Time. Every spring, I despise it for days in advance and fight it for days afterward. This spring (this weekend, in fact), I have tried to roll with it, but old habits die hard and losing that hour in the morning really does mess with my chemistry, biology and mathematics.

My spirit doesn’t care. My body most definitely does, and my mind is practically lathered with it. Life is confusing enough; why must we confuse it further by playing with the clock? Ours is the only dimension where time matters, and boy, do we make it count. Aside from the almighty dollar, time is the thing that rules us. We’re always watching the clock, scheduling appointments, afraid we’ll be late, forgetting to set the PVR or to watch what we’ve recorded because we can’t find the time, stressing with insomnia because the alarm is going off in two hours and forty-seven minutes … ARG!

So, am I making this a problem? Or am I simply acknowledging that there is a problem? I am never happier than when I lose track of time. My natural rhythm takes over and I eat when I’m hungry, sleep when I’m sleepy, and write until I’m faint from lack of one or the other.

My intention is always to spend less time being aware of the time, so how do I get past DST?

I guess I’ll just have to give myself time.

Fall Back

You can relive the past … by an hour, once a year. I relive that hour by sleeping through it; not exactly a waste, but sure to mess up my body clock the next day.

I woke up at 6:00 a.m., which was really 7:00 a.m, but didn’t stop me from thinking, F***, it’ll still be dark when the alarm goes off tomorrow. I got up at 7:00, which was really 8:00, and Ter was up a half-hour later, which was really a half-hour earlier, since she usually sleeps until 8:30 on a weekend. Yesterday, she did. Today, we’re all screwed up so it doesn’t matter.

At 10:00, my stomach started thinking about elevenses. I made myself wait until 11:00 for tea, which is really noon and almost time for lunch. Now elevenses are done and Ter has gone to get groceries. She’ll be back in a couple of hours. That’ll be 1:30ish, which will really be 2:30ish, so we’ll be eating lunch at 2:00, which is really 3:00. 3:30 tea will happen at what was 4:30 yesterday. Then sun will start setting around then, throwing us further off track. Dinner at 6:00, which is really 7:00, followed by evening tea at 7:30 which is really 8:30, then bed at 9:00 which is really 10:00, and since my body will think it ate late and I never sleep well on a Sunday night because I know I have to wake before I want to in the morning, it’s going to be a lonnnnng night.

Why do we mess with the clocks again? Saskatchewan doesn’t bother. Smart Saskatchewan. We’re not saving anything. It might be lighter in the morning, but that only makes it darker at the other end. Nature doesn’t care what time it is. Critters only know sleeptime, playtime and dinnertime. Same with babies and little kids. They run on their own clocks. Why don’t we? Granted, I could be living in Dickensian times, when the employee paid the employer for the privilege of 8 twelve-hour workdays per week, but are they really getting their money’s worth when I drag my sleepy cranky butt to the office before the sun is up? I don’t know how the Nordic cultures endure it. Mind you, I don’t know if they bother turning the clock forward or back, either. Dark is dark, people. It’s winter – or close enough. Fooling the clock isn’t fooling anyone.

An aimless, somewhat acerbic rant, I know. But I’m already tired and tomorrow is frikking Monday. I have a big-fun periodontal consult at 2:00, which will really be 3:00, so I won’t get home until … dark.

*sigh*