I Sprang Forward - I'll Fall on my Face Later

I hate Daylight Savings Time.

It’s not the “longer” period of light or the theory of Daylight Savings Time I dislike - it’s the three or four days it takes me to stop thinking that the clock shows one time, but it’s “really” an hour earlier.

I always feel nervous that I might not be changing time on the same day as everyone else and I will be out of synch, behind, embarrassingly late or early. Last week I panicked because my calendar, which shows international holidays and important dates, listed last weekend as the time change. Because it was, for most of the rest of the world. Except for Arizona and parts of Indiana.

The cat goes off her feeding schedule for a few days and fails to be a reliable back-up morning alarm. My own gastronomical clock needs to be reset. It’s 11:30 and I’m not even hungry yet. How will I know when it’s break time?

And tonight I probably won't be in bed until 12:30. It’s not me being a night owl - it’s me the creature of habit, following my sensitive rhythm, not to be comfortable in a new hour-later routine until, probably, Wednesday.