extra hour

Woke up early, tossed and turned, heard the clock strike four, gave in to the reality that I wasn’t going back to sleep.

While I was getting dressed, noticed my phone said the time was a little after five o’clock, which made me feel a little better. I don’t know why I feel bad about getting less sleep. It’s just that it seems not right somehow. So I felt better when I thought I got an hour more.

But then after I made myself a hot cuppa and settle in to catch up on the news, I saw the clock on the wall was an hour behind the clock on my phone and realized daylight savings must have kicked in last night. There goes my extra hour of sleep and my good feeling about getting it.


Wide awake at three this morning, dozed on and off until I gave up & rolled out of bed at four. It’s not insomnia, it’s my internal clock failing to adjust to the tick-tock clocks falling back. It used to be I was wide awake at four, dozed until five. It’ll take my internal clock at least a month to completely transition to this new time frame.

I thought we got all the tick-tock clocks reset yesterday — B even managed to reset the clock in the car, and it took her less than a minute to do it! — but I missed the one in the thermostat, which is timed to turn down the heat at ten o’clock in the evening, then crank it up again at five o’clock in the morning. And that’s why my head asploded when I woke up at three, figured out why I was awake an hour early, rolled out of bed at four to take a shower, then heard the furnace and whiplashed temporally back into daylight savings time for a few minutes until I figured out why the house was warming up an hour earlier than it should have been.

Have I mentioned yet how much I hate daylight savings time?

half past the monkey’s

My daylight savings time story: I woke up yesterday morning while it was still dark and just a minute or two before the clock in the front room went bong – half-past the hour, but which hour? Thanks to insomnia, I was still awake a half-hour later when I heard the clock strike four. And I was still awake a half-hour after that to hear it strike half-past again. That’s when I gave up, got out of bed and made myself a pot of coffee.

I was expecting a repeat this morning, which was why I was startled to open my eyes and see first light breaking through the slats of the Venetian blinds of our bedroom window. My clock said it was almost seven-thirty – I expected to be wide awake, filled with hot coffee and banging out the last line of some new drivel by this time! Time’s a-wasting!

Then I remembered that we fall back this morning; It’s not seven-thirty, it’s really six-thirty! But by extension, that means I woke up the day before at two-thirty. Or something like that.


I have been wide-awake since four o’clock, which was my usual five o’clock wake-up time until last weekend. This is my obligatory “I hate daylight savings time” post. Thank you. Come back later for more. I’ll be bleary-eyed all week.

Late For Work

Here’s the headache of daylight savings from my perspective: I was stationed in Berlin, Germany, for two years, and at an RAF base in the middle of a field near Lincoln, England, for another two years, and you wouldn’t think of either of those places as being in the great white north, or even any colder or snowier than, say, Saint Paul, Minnesota, but citizens of both are about six hundred miles closer to Santa Claus than the good people of Saint Paul. Everyone who said “No Way!” go ahead and google that, I’ll wait. And while you’re doing that I’ll just stick in here parenthetically that, even though Berlin doesn’t get much in the way of snow, it more than makes up for it in bone-chilling cold. I have rarely been as cold anywhere else in my life. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.

Twice every year we, and by “we” I mean “those of us who aren’t as smart as the guys in Indiana and parts of Michigan who told the feds to go stuff their daylight savings,” have to go through this national convulsion where we set our clocks forward in the spring, then gripe about it for at least a week, then set the clocks back in the fall, then gripe about it again for at least a week. The griping is starting to annoy me almost as much as changing the clock. There’s a guy on afternoon talk radio who devotes a whole hour every time the clocks change to not only griping about it, but inviting listeners to call in a gripe about it, too. My take on that is, if you aren’t going to gripe to somebody who can actually change the law, then shut up and color.

I arrived in Berlin in February, when the days were already getting longer, although I had no freaking idea how much longer they were going to get. There comes a fine summer day when you wake up at five o’clock in the morning to full daylight. Not dawn. I’m talking about the kind of bright sunshine that comes blazing through the kitchen window of a television advertisement for Windex. If you’re anything like normal, it’ll make you glance at the clock to make sure you read it right, then look out the window again, frowning. Or, if you were like I was then, a young airman chronically unable to get to work on time anyway, you did like I did and shit your shorts believing you had slept until lunchtime and would be facing administrative punishment instead of a mild ass-chewing.

The change to bright, sunshiny mornings is gradual, but for some reason you don’t realize it. All at once, it seems, the sun’s up at five o’clock, and stays up until about nine in the evening. Talk about messing up your mind-clock. Daylight savings still makes me grumpy, but with that kind of weirdness in my past, I don’t let it get to me.