It’s 11:30 p.m. at my
house.
Wait. No. I
lied.
It’s 10:30 p.m. at my
house.
I have already run around
and turned back all of the clocks. I
never wait until the following morning, and I always stay up too late when DST
ends because I’m getting that extra hour … and wasting it right off the bat.
Wait. No. I
lied.
I’m not really wasting
time because I overslept this morning. I
was ready to get up at 6:30, rolled around for a few minutes believing I couldn’t
get back to sleep, then zonked out for almost three more hours.
Technically, that means I’m
still two hours in the black, right?
It will be dark early
during the Patriots game. Of course, it’s
November now; it’s dark almost constantly this month with the later sunrises
and early sunsets. November’s
sunlessness does to the soul what March’s extreme winds and chill do to the
body. The whole buckling into winter in
early November, the whole unbuckling again from it toward the end of March.
It may be 10:30 p.m. at my
house, but I’ll use my time carefully to ease myself into the first few weeks
of winter. It may not be here
officially, but the raw wind, icy rain, and plunging temperature do not believe
that any more than my senses do. Once I
adjust to it, it’s just about the time the days start to get a little longer
again, anyway, and by then it’s not so bad.
By then, I’ll have
adjusted to the weather and already gotten excited over the holidays and the
snow and the New England winter. By then, I won’t be missing that hour so much
anymore.
