Clocked

lynn clock 0320

Man, am I not enjoying the time change. I spent all of yesterday not remembering why I walked from one side of the shop to the other, and then I came home and did the exact same thing, standing in doorways while I tried to remember why I had set out with such purpose. This happens to me on a regular basis anyway, but not on yesterday’s scale.

Monday morning I woke up in the pitch dark, momentarily pleased that I had made it clear ’til 6:15 before I realized that just two days prior, this would have been 5:15. This morning, after waking up every two hours after falling asleep around 9, I woke up for good to find I’d slept through half my Denver newscast. And in Real Time it was still only 5:45.

I don’t believe I missed anything on the news except endless coronavirus reports, which likely were repeated in the second half, as well as the beginning, middle and end of CBS’s first hour, plus the start of their second hour, at which point I thought I might be able to get out of bed and be somewhat functional. I have no idea how Lynn is making it to work on time on this godawful new schedule that we’re pretending is the same as always.

Na Ki’o appears to have already made his adjustments: he was squeaking around, wondering where his 8 o’clock food and medication were just as the clock said 8, even if the sky didn’t. But Marrakesh and I would have been content to lie around a little longer, especially since the sun does not seem inclined to show its face at all today.

Vann is the new guy at work, Ben’s replacement, and in several good ways it seems like he’s already been with us awhile. I of course can’t remember where he said he heard this, other than it comes from the Navajo, who say only a white man can cut one end off a rug, sew it on the other end and think he has a longer rug. Welcome to Daylight Saving, White Eyes.

Also at work, Gilly has been exulting for probably two months over every extra minute of daylight she has been picking up at the end of each day. She even broke her bike out to ride to work one day last week, doing so much better than yours truly, who is still managing to come up with a daily excuse for driving back to work. (But I’m still enjoying my walk/read to and from Lake School.)

Yesterday, with this full “extra” hour of sun beaming down as the work day ended, Gilly said she felt like she was leaving work early. I told her she was, and that she needed to get back to work, but she and James went out the door anyway.

I don’t care if we pick our “summer” clock schedule, which now encompasses everything from early March through late November (let’s count: we’re already talking almost nine months of a 12-month calendar), or the winter schedule (December, January, February, plus a couple of weeks), but we need to be done with this clock-changing, rug-sewing nonsense.

I don’t know who “they” is in this instance, but “they” need to fix this. Maybe “they” do it quietly. Who for instance, made the decision to push the time change back farther in the fall so it’s now winter? And who decided we were going to move up the spring change so that it’s now in winter? (Or quasi-winter: our weather this week can’t decide which it wants to be, winter or spring.)

Whoever has this power should just keep pushing, moving back a week, moving up a week, until suddenly there we are, meeting front and back and we no longer need to change our clocks at all.

This is not really about me, you understand. No, this is entirely — 100 percent — altruistic. I am only thinking of others. People like Lynn, who has this clock she loves despite a broken dial in the back, the dial that moves the hands. To make a time change with this clock, she has to remove the battery and then wait 12 hours. Which is really 11, or 13, however that works when you “gain” or “lose” time. And if she is two minutes late to the battery party, well then she has to wait another 12 hours, which might really be 12 hours this time.

Let us all think of Lynn, then, and how doing away with Daylight Saving, or keeping Daylight Saving year-round, I really don’t care, will render her quality of life so much the better.

Sure, there may be complainers, the ski areas and the PTAs that don’t want children getting on buses in the dark, but this is about Lynn, and her clock. And about keeping Na Ki’o on schedule when he struggles for an entire day before adjusting. If it improves my quality of life along the way, well, that’s just happenstance — a happenstance I will accept graciously as part of the better good.

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