Navigating the time change
By: Linda McCarthy
Unlike most people, I have an extraordinarily hard time adjusting to any time change. It doesn’t matter if we’re springing ahead or falling back; I’m confused until the next switch, and then it starts all over again.
It’s not from lack of trying; I want to be in sync with the rest of society. It’s just not in the cards.
For months after the initial switcheroo, I roam aimlessly through the house wondering which clock has the correct time. Then, just to be on the safe side, I sleep two extra hours to make sure I don’t get gypped out of any much-needed beauty rest.
When my kids were little, the time change worked to my advantage. I had them convinced that if they didn’t go to bed an hour earlier in the spring, even though it was still light out, they would throw off the forces in the cosmic universe and the world would tilt off its axis.
I know you’re thinking it’s bad parenting to toss that type of responsibility at a kid. But I got an extra hour of peace each day and, as a planet, we’re still rotating nicely.
The government-sanctioned time change is bad enough, but factor in geographical time zones and I’m hopeless.
My friend and I took a trip to California a while back. Since we weren’t going to be there that long, I convinced her we should stay on Eastern Standard Time.
It was supposed to be easy…just subtract three hours to get the "real" time. We did fine for most of the trip, but eventually I lost it. I was caught in a vortex of a warped time.
Our flight home departed at 6 a.m., Pacific Standard Time. So at 4 a.m., I hopped in the shower, finished packing and gently knocked on my friend’s door so she would have time to get ready. Then I called home to alert my family we were on our way.
Odd; no answer.
My friend emerged from her room claiming she felt like she had just put her head on the pillow. She shuffled into the bathroom.
Soon enough, it dawned on me…it was only 1 a.m.
By this time, I could hear the hair dryer going in the other room. I was torn between confessing and just slipping back into bed. With any luck, I could convince her she dreamed the whole thing.
But it was too late. There she was in full make-up, bags packed and standing by the door. Seeing that our hosts were nestled in their beds, I had to let her in on my little problem with time.
To say the least, she was not happy. But since she had already dried her hair, going back to bed was out of the question.
It’s funny; when someone’s not speaking to you, three hours can seem like 10!
Oh well. Our hosts got up at 5 a.m., wondering what we were doing up so early.
If I knew, I’d tell them.
Linda McCarthy resides in Robbinsville with her husband and three children.