The end of daylight savings time has hit me pretty hard this year, and I'm blaming that. Sure, I'm stressed, and I'm working on a project I don't like, but I'm always stressed, and I'm almost always working on a project I don't like. As a former coworker once told me, "That's why they call it work. If it was fun they'd call it play."
In years past I might get a little saddened when the clocks fell back. I'd leave work and emerge from the building in darkness. Meh, dark now, oh well. If you're young and something like that bothers you, you can just find someone and get a drink.
What's bothering me now isn't the darkness so much as that I just can't catch up. I'm writing this draft after nine p.m. on Tuesday and I feel like it's past ten. That's another thing: When you're in your early twenties, the first blush of youth, you don't feel different at 9:30 or 10:30. When you're older, you do. Time plays a lot of tricks on you.
I can't remember ever having so much trouble resetting the internal clock. I know the dogs are making it harder. For days now their bladders are telling them it's six a.m. when it's actually five. They're patient about that, but less so when the end of the day comes and they want to play and have dinner because the sun is going down, and when it did that on Saturday they had already played and were about to have dinner. Dogs have trouble grasping the notion of time. Snoopy isn't the only dog who goes by his stomach clock.
So I'm tired and grouchy and the dogs are confused and it's dark all the time. I hope I'll feel better tomorrow. And closer to on time.
No comments:
Post a Comment