I am a woman who does not like change. Time change, that is. I’ve written about it several times on this blog.
In spite of my internet protestations, nothing has changed. I am just more internet noise signifying nothing. I am not going to spend one second of lost time researching or joining internet time change protestation groups; I’m sure there are many of them, some even bordering on conspiracy theory. You know the types…time change is a vast right-wing conspiracy to force people to eat chocolate covered ants. Time change is part of a larger liberal agenda to save the rare red-legged cockroach.
The only thing left to do would be to lodge a complaint with some governmental authority and honestly, who has time for that? I’ve got cakes to bake and cake salons to host! Not to mention preparations for next week’s “La Semaine de la Francophonie.”
On Saturday, I decided I would “make the best of it” and I planned accordingly by going to bed early. New day, positive attitude and all that. Daily vitamins arranged like soldiers on the counter.
I woke up, took a walk, picked up the paper, and stayed home all day doing Sunday kinds of things. I organized loose papers, put things away, made lists, and even had a drive-by visit from my parents. The sun, gorgeously bright and incrementally warmer, sloped westward while melting things it its wake.
There was daylight enough to move some snow around on the west side of the house.
In bed by 9:00 p.m. and sleeping like a little lamb by 10:00 p.m. As I drifted off, I thought “I’ve beaten this time change thing,” and laughed my way into dreamland.
I slept so well, I even shut off my alarm when it started buzzing. Before I knew it, it was 7:00 a.m. I overslept!
Robbed again by the time barons.