Time

I predict there's gonna be a whole lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth tomorrow, as our work force heads off to another week of labor, an hour early.  And it won't end there.  It will reoccur next week, and the week after that, and the week after that.  Until some bureaucraticly-set date in October, when we leave the FINALLLY-accustomed bliss of Daylight Savings Time and return to our old and comfortable Standard Time.

The problem is that Standard Time is no longer standard, nor is it comfortable.  We spend eight months a year on DST, and only 4 on Standard.  Seems to me it would be a lot simpler if we adopted DST as a norm, and simply started everything an hour later when the days grow shorter.  And there would be no need to remember to set the clocks ahead or back, or trying to figure out what time it really is.

Actually, neither time works well for me.  I seem to find myself in a perpetual "tummy time,"  getting hungry and tired in a circadian rhythm that is not controlled by clocks.  Having cats help.  I recently changed a Facebook 'job title" to cat herder.  In fact, one cannot herd cats.  One simply accomodates them as a staff member, catering to their needs and whims.  They come when called, if they are in the mood.  They find reasons to tear through the house at times when the clock indicates all should be asleep.  They do, essentially, what they want, when they want, and they eat and play and nap on "tummy time."  Guess I'm turning into a cat.

Except for patience.  Last week I ordered an easel.  A real, genuine, artist's studio easel.  It came by UPS, bless them.  Now, in five years this will be funny as the dickens, but not this week.  I was excited.  I was impatient.  I was expectant.  I was nervous.  I constantly scanned the tracking of the package to see exactly when this Blessed Artist's Studio Easel would grace my doorstep.  Oh, did I mention we had "weather"?  Seriously.  Snow.  Rain.  Sleet.  Snow.  Salt trucks.  State-wide snow emergency warnings.  Resultiing in -- trucks that did not roll and unforseen weather delays,  and, finally, "damaged in shipment."  After a week of waiting anxiously for the easel to arrive, it was sent back to the shipper.  A replacement should be here late in the week.

I am no longer impatient.  I am no longer nervous.  I am too tired to think about it, partially because I'm still on tummy time and the clocks aren't.