I have heard that our elected officials in Sacramento are “working”
on getting rid of the time change. I will hold my breath. Here’s what I had to
say about it last year:
Dear People in Charge of Daylight Savings Time,
Stop it. (Oh, and bite me.)
-Smidge
I would actually print and mail that letter if I had any
idea where to send it, but it still wouldn’t do any good. Not because of its
surly and abrupt tone, but because even if you put it directly into the hands
of the person in charge, they still work for the government. They either don’t
know they are in charge of it, or they will say, “We have to take that to
committee.” Nothing ever gets decided in committee, because “committee” is an
old English Parliament word meaning “cocktail party.”
Since Arizona and Hawaii and half of Indiana don’t change to
Daylight Savings Time, I assume having us mess with our clocks and sleep
patterns twice a year is the responsibility of state governments. I live in
California, and our state government has been successfully making the federal
government look efficient and trustworthy by comparison for years.
I would move to Arizona, Hawaii, or the correct half of
Indiana, but sadly, all three of those places are uninhabitable. (You may be
arguing that point concerning Hawaii, but never forget: it might be a nice
place to visit, but the entire state is the size of your living room, and the
whole thing is literally floating on molten lava.)
I have railed against messing with the clocks on numerous
occasions in this column and in person. (I’m sorry if you were ever unlucky
enough to be around me at the beginning of March or November.) Mind you, I
don’t care about it for myself. It never affects my body. It does affect my
head, though, in the form of giving me headaches dealing with my children and
my wife.
I have discussed this as far as the children go. I think we
have all experienced the dread as we changed the clocks, knowing what is to
come on Monday morning. In November, they will be knocking on your door at five
A.M., and in March you will need to use a pneumatic jackhammer to dislodge them
from their beds in time for school.
I have never discussed how Daylight Savings Time affects my
wife, however. It’s far more insidious than the problems with the kids.
First, here’s a general outline of my typical day:
Alarm goes off.
I get out of bed and do things.
I am awake and functional all day.
I go to bed when all the things are done.
Repeat.
Here is how my wife’s perfect day would go:
No alarms exist in the city in which she sleeps.
Darkness, silence, and sleep prevail until at least ten A.M.
A slight head nod shall be given when it is acceptable to
give gentle hugs.
No speaking aloud until two P.M.
Wide awake and productive from three P.M. until eight.
Total brain shutdown begins promptly at nine.
In bed at ten o’clock.
Repeat.
We have been running into quite a few snags in her perfect
day schedule ever since we had children, and things got really bad when I quit
my real job to become a professional writer. Since we all enjoy eating, it is
very important that my wife gets out of bed and goes to work every day now.
Under normal circumstances, the six A.M. alarm is met with
severe groaning and scowling disapproval directed at me, but the weeks
surrounding the Daylight Savings Time changes are just downright scary.
We really need her to keep getting out of bed each morning,
and you Daylight Savings Time idiots over in Sacramento are not helping. You
have made me the bad guy. With the kids, I can just yank the covers and roll
them onto the floor. But with my wife I have to lovingly remind her that it
really is six o’clock even though it should obviously still be five, and even
though it’s obviously way too early to get up, it’s still time to get up, and
it’s not my fault, and please put down the knife.
I hate you, Daylight Savings Time.
Or is it Daylight Saving Time? Is it plural or singular?
Dammit. Hang on, let me Google it.
Oh, great. There’s even a debate about that. I just found
one more reason to hate you, Daylight Whateverthehell Time.
See you soon,
-Smidge
Copyright © 2016 Marc Schmatjen
No comments:
Post a Comment