I don’t understand the purpose of DST, aka as Daylight Saving Time.

Spring forward. Fall back. Spring forward. Fall back.

Boing. Crash. Boing. Crash.

I don’t really care if I have an extra hour of daylight to rake leaves in November.

I feel cranky and dull from the additional hour of sleep in the fall. I feel cranky and dull from missing an hour of sleep in the spring.

I spend weeks in the fall thinking, mumbling, saying —  it’s eight o’clock, but it’s really nine o’clock. I spend weeks in the spring thinking, mumbling, saying — it’s eight o’clock, but it’s really only seven o’clock.

In the fall-back zone at 11am, I want my lunch. Golden Pup wants her lunch. At 4pm, I want to leave work. At 4pm, Golden Pup wants her dinner.

In the spring-forward zone at 12pm, it’s too early for lunch. Golden Pup wants her lunch. At 5pm, it’s too early to leave work. Golden Pup wants her dinner.

Too late, too early. Too early, too late.

What’s a Daylight Saving Time Girl to do?

I’ll tell you. In November — become a bear. It’s dark when you get up in the morning. It’s dark when you finish work. It’s waaaaaay dark when you go to bed. Don’t fight it. Be a bear.

Hibernate.

That is all.

Elen