Spring Still
The alarm goes off. Something's wrong. Why is the clock radio already chirping away when it's not quite light yet? At eight thirty the light is already supposed to be pouring into the room through the cracks in the blinds. Through my foggy brain comes the memory of changing the hour on the clock before going to sleep. That's right. Daylight savings begins today.
This travesty we are obliged to participate in every year becomes more and more difficult to swallow. We should be on the same hour as Portugal just to the south, or Great Britain and Ireland straight to the north. Yet, this change every spring takes us even further away from the sun, into an artificial dependency on our clocks. It makes it more difficult to get up early for me. My eyes tend to drift open with the sun, which is why I leave the blinds up a bit during the winter. But, with this change in the hour, the only time of the year I even feel comfortable getting up earlier is around the summer solstice, when, by the clock, the sun appears sometime after six in the morning.
Franco not only imposed his National-Catholic dictatorship upon us (which still rumbles behind the walls and under the floorboards), but he also imposed Central European time, in order to be even more united with his German friend, good old Adolf. It's a travesty, which, after seventy years, becomes more difficult to deal with, and more difficult to attempt to change. Though, our leaders being in love with the past, it's not likely to be changed soon.
I get up at the new hour and eat breakfast. The kitchen clock, which still has the old hour, tells me I'm being very virtuous. But my body grumbles unmentionable things as I drink coffee black enough to try to wake up. My cats also find it strange to see me stumble around earlier, but they don't say no to eating breakfast before the usual hour. It's colder, of course, because the day is still younger, and the sun, whether behind the clouds or shining, still hasn't had a chance to warm the air. There is a lethargy in my brain that will stay with me for a few days, making me feel like I'm catching up after dancing all Saturday night at a disco, but without the good memories to look back upon.
My stomach will go hungry at strange hours, or wonder why I'm feeding it at the wrong hour. My cats will also wonder at me. Even though this week I have vacation, it doesn't mean life gets put on hold. I can't just sleep all I want, or keep the old schedule because I feel better that way. I must force my body to respond, all the while my body telling me it's not twenty years old anymore.
Can I keep my hour of sleep someday? Please?
This travesty we are obliged to participate in every year becomes more and more difficult to swallow. We should be on the same hour as Portugal just to the south, or Great Britain and Ireland straight to the north. Yet, this change every spring takes us even further away from the sun, into an artificial dependency on our clocks. It makes it more difficult to get up early for me. My eyes tend to drift open with the sun, which is why I leave the blinds up a bit during the winter. But, with this change in the hour, the only time of the year I even feel comfortable getting up earlier is around the summer solstice, when, by the clock, the sun appears sometime after six in the morning.
Franco not only imposed his National-Catholic dictatorship upon us (which still rumbles behind the walls and under the floorboards), but he also imposed Central European time, in order to be even more united with his German friend, good old Adolf. It's a travesty, which, after seventy years, becomes more difficult to deal with, and more difficult to attempt to change. Though, our leaders being in love with the past, it's not likely to be changed soon.
I get up at the new hour and eat breakfast. The kitchen clock, which still has the old hour, tells me I'm being very virtuous. But my body grumbles unmentionable things as I drink coffee black enough to try to wake up. My cats also find it strange to see me stumble around earlier, but they don't say no to eating breakfast before the usual hour. It's colder, of course, because the day is still younger, and the sun, whether behind the clouds or shining, still hasn't had a chance to warm the air. There is a lethargy in my brain that will stay with me for a few days, making me feel like I'm catching up after dancing all Saturday night at a disco, but without the good memories to look back upon.
My stomach will go hungry at strange hours, or wonder why I'm feeding it at the wrong hour. My cats will also wonder at me. Even though this week I have vacation, it doesn't mean life gets put on hold. I can't just sleep all I want, or keep the old schedule because I feel better that way. I must force my body to respond, all the while my body telling me it's not twenty years old anymore.
Can I keep my hour of sleep someday? Please?
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