Change of Time.

You’d think that after 37 years on this planet I’d be used to this by now. But I’m not. My life is about to be thrown into a turmoil in which it’ll take me a month to recover from.

Daylight Saving Time begins this weekend.

For as many years as I’ve had this blog (I think it’s almost 5), I’ve complained about Daylight Saving Time. My body doesn’t like it. My mind doesn’t like it. It throws me out of synch with the planet’s natural rhythm. I’d rather fly to Hong Kong and back and endure the jet lag than deal with this time saving nonsense.

I’m always amused when people say we have Daylight Saving Time to make the day longer. “The sun is out longer”, people sometimes say. “Ring ring”. Here that, it’s the clue phone? People. The day is still 24 hours, the sun has not slowed down it’s path across the heavens. We just monkey around with the clock so that it seems like it’s light later.

“The farmers love it because their crops get more light.” To that I say, “shut the fsck up you idiot.” First of all, farmers hate DST as much as I do because Bessie and Henna Hen can’t tell what time it is and they get impatient. Milk and egg production actually goes down for a bit. Secondly, the corn field has no idea what time it is and as I mentioned before, it’s the same amount of light in the overall scheme of things.

So now I’ll have to drive to the Central Time Zone as much as possible to feel back to normal for the next several months. And don’t get me started on that whole Indiana time zone mess that’s going on.

I apologize if I sound cranky. My alarm clock is going off right now because it thinks it’s Monday.