I didn’t realize
it was another Daylight Savings weekend until 9:52, which was actually 10:52,
yesterday morning. No one reminds me in advance anymore. I went to high school with
a kid who came late to class because nobody in her family had known it was time
to set the clocks forward. I’m like them now.
My wrist watch has
been trying to find itself lately, pushing for more independence by the month. Long
ago, I was in an elevator with someone who wore an identical one.
“Does yours ever
stop and then randomly start back up again?” she asked.
“What? Never,” I
said. “I swear by this thing.”
When I reached out
to forward it from 9:52 to 10:52 yesterday, it hadn’t even bothered to hit 9:52
yet. Softly ticking away, as if it were still 9:14, it slowed time down for a
while, after having treated itself to a little breather. I applaud that ploy - to
a point. I don’t know how old a 7-year-old watch is in human years, but I’ve
read The Alchemist and recognize the
importance of heeding omens. This year, I’m upgrading to something Swiss.
I guess Daylight Savings means that Summer is around the corner for you... which I'm sure is good-ish news. We don't have DS here. Same crap, same time, every day.
ReplyDeleteIt might be fun to write a series of stories centered around the mishaps attending the days on which we spring forward and fall back.
ReplyDeleteThat person in the elevator jinxed you.
ReplyDelete