Saturday, March 08, 2008

Does anybody really know what time it is?

I moved to Indiana in 1978. One of the first things I remember is that we didn't change our clocks in the fall and winter. I thought it was odd, especially because, as far as I knew, the entire country changed their clocks except us.

This battle went on for years, till the last year or two, when the DST law finally was passed in Indiana. You would've thought we seceded from the Union, with the havoc it struck. Some wanted to, some didn't, some flatly refused to, despite the fact that everyone else does. It's a very, very odd thing in our state. Add to that that the state got rather split up, with small areas using different time zones, and it's quite confusing. Our son will be an hour behind us, when he goes back from spring break tomorrow. This means that I'll have to think way, way too hard about that "pick me up Friday at noon."

I never was one for math.

And now Indiana has become the center of attention, in the argument for and against Daylight Savings, because a new study shows that it does not, as always though, save energy costs. Oh wow, we're trendsetters. Imagine that.

If you think about it, no one knows what time it is, except maybe during football season, when it's nothing but "kickoff." Not "kickoff TIME," but kickoff. Or halfTIME. Or, for that matter, Miller TIME. Or, for that totally useless time of day before noon, TIME to make the doughnuts.

Point being, no one really knows what time it is, except in Greenland or one of those places where they have the official clocks.
All I know is, I'm gonna get an hour less of sleep tonight, after being awakened every night this week by sick kids and husband. And with spring coming, the little time I spend sleeping tonight, should at least be in something pretty, like this dreamy floral 30s nightgown, from the Dorothea's Closet's Noir Boudoir. Don't you just love how it's done in pretty spring colors? But since we got snow today, and it's colder than cold here, I'll be nice and warm in my flannel Christmas tree jammies, dreaming of a warm beach where no one cares what time it is.

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