Here’s the deal.  I love to complain.  It is one of my most favorite pastimes.  It has brought me close together with some of my best friends.  I am grateful for all that I have, all the wonderful things I get to experience, all the love and flowers and butterflies and good feelings in life, I really am, but… Somehow it just isn’t as fulfilling as a good bitchfest sometimes.  For Sunday, as I am told that Lent doesn’t actually count Sundays, I am writing a bit about something I am not grateful for: Daylight Savings Time.

I’ve tried, okay.  I’ve tried HARD.  Yeah, I guess more time in the evenings with light to do stuff with the family, but that happens eventually anyway.  I just feel robbed.  It makes me feel every so slightly unsafe in all elements of my life to have someone sneak up at TWO O’CLOCK ON A SUNDAY MORNING and steal ONE WHOLE HOUR OF MY LIFE.  Yeah, it’s nice that they give it back in the fall, but I was using that hour!!!  Mostly for sleep!!  No, I have never cared much for the horrible practice referred to as “DST.”  I really prefer to call it DST, because that sounds like it could be a disease or something, whereas “Daylight Savings Time” sounds almost serene, and is, therefore, full of lies.  

Sleep and I have had a pretty good relationship for most of my life.  I could sleep upwards of 12 hours if given the opportunity.  Problem is… Wait for it… I have two small children and an adult man-child.  I have put family before sleep on occasions too numerous to count.  My husband, God bless him, is many things, but he is not a sleeper.  If he stays in bed until eight on a weekend, he feels like he has ruined his day, somehow.  The day is something to be seized and sleep is something to be utilized out of necessity now and again.  My girls seem to get their sleep habits from their father.  I sleep on the edge of the bed on my left side and don’t move unless I must and nearly always (used to be always always, but as I’ve aged I’ve started sleeping a little harder sometimes) wake partially before I move even a little.  Those three…. They flail.  They talk.  They lash out.  They are not good at being still, waking OR sleeping.  I miss my sleep.  We have encounters now and again, but our relationship is nothing like it used to be.  I had weekends when I would hardly leave my bed at all!  Oh, glorious days spent reading, watching television, snacking, and nap after nap after nap… How I miss you.

So, DST, you are on notice.  I am hostile and sleep-deprived.  We are NOT FRIENDS and I am NOT GRATEFUL FOR YOU.


About cultofezzell

Ben's wife, Nora and Emeline's mommy. Finding the joy in this crazy family life while battling rheumatoid arthritis.
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