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No ranting, just story time (which was an amaaazing software program for Mac back in the day. Man, I miss that game).

As you know, my husband has been sick. I was starting to feel sick too. The past weekend, I took some Nyquil when he did before bed Friday, so that I could power through the following work day without falling ill and screwing up everyone’s plans. Saturday, I woke up a little groggy but drank some coffee and the day got better. For awhile.

By the time I got home, I was suffering from a hardcore migraine. It’s not uncommon for Saturday to result in a stress headache, since it’s really busy. My sinuses were hurting. I felt tired and crappy again. Had some tea, had some Ibuprofen, ate dinner, etc. Felt a little better, but nowhere near 100%. Come bedtime, it was once again time to take Nyquil and go back to bed. I’d been waiting to go back to bed all day.

We rely on technology so much. It had occurred to me earlier in the week that I would be losing an hour. Whatever, I thought. Our phones will obviously update, and I will wake up on time. 

But they didn’t.

I woke up feeling groggy and gross, unaware of the current failure about to overcome me. Husband urged me to take one dose of Dayquil before work.

“The last time I did that was before a presentation, and I bombed. I got super anxious, felt all light-headed, and totally mucked it up,” I informed him.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured me. I succumbed to peer pressure and thus started my second mistake of the day.

When I arrived at work, the lights were on and the door was unlocked. Which struck me as unusual since I’m usually one of the first to arrive. I checked the clock on the wall, and it said I was 10 minutes away from opening. I walked in, clocked in, and the time-clock said one hour later.

“WHAT?” I yelled. I did yell, and probably followed it up by whispering some swear words to confirm my confusion.

Two meetings had already started with clients. I walked into the back and apologized to my boss and co-workers, but due to the Dayquil and lack of sufficient sleep and coffee, I still didn’t fully understand the whole Daylight Savings Time mistake. I just recognized that for some reason I was late, and the time-in clock was possibly wrong.

I set the clock on the computer back, because obviously, technology was wrong, and the Dayquil/coffee-laden me was correct. I even told a client that his clock was wrong when he was making an appointment. He never corrected me, possibly because he too didn’t understand time travel, which is what I think of Daylight Savings Time. It’s also what I think of whenever I cross time zones, but that’s another, longer story.

It got worse when lunchtime rolled around. I got into a ten minute discussion where I argued with my co-worker about “spring forward, fall back.” Until noon, I kept thinking that we were an hour behind. No, we were an hour forward.

He and I went to lunch, and I had another coffee. Clearly, I had messed up. I still felt all loopy from the Dayquil, and after I downed an iced mocha, I morphed into the second phase which is jittery and full of doom.

“Get it together!” my co-worker demanded, teasingly but seriously. At which point, I had a short conversation with my mom on the phone where someone else had yelled the same thing the night before at a party she was at, but for completely different reasons. Then she concluded that she also needed to get it together, because she just found her hat which she’d been looking for for a month.

Finally, the workday came to a close, and I slunk home. I was just glad I had not spent a month looking for a hat, although it did feel something like that. I celebrated surviving the weekend and Daylight Savings Time, by watching my favorite episode from Eerie, Indiana called “The Lost Hour.”

In general, I loved that show as a kid, because it was like The Twilight Zone/Buffy The Vampire Slayer/The X-Files for kids but not scary. For those who missed that part of the ’90’s, it’s about a kid who moves to a bizarre town and has to deal with oddities and creepiness on a regular basis. “The Lost Hour” is pertinent to my topic though. It’s a Daylight Savings tradition for me, available on Hulu (episode 10). In it, Marshall’s dad informs him that Indiana does not change their clocks (correction: half of Indiana does, the other half doesn’t). Marshall, still pissed about moving away from New Jersey, announces to his best friend that he deserves his extra hour of sleep before a Saturday. He ends up in an alternate time zone, where Eerie is completely abandoned except for all the poor saps who changed the clock. He has to figure out how to get back to “regular” Eerie.

After viewing it, I felt a lot better, and identified more than ever with Marshall.

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