Timely Savings

My father in law was fond of saying “How did it get so late, so early?”

Spring ahead and lose an hour while saving, something. Seems like one of those “New Math” equations they loved in the 70’s. Our benevolent government has seen fit to change our day to day interactions with time. Marvelous idea, gentlemen.

Since we drive a bit to get to our job, I normally get up around 4 am, get the fire started, have a cup of coffee, that sort of thing. We are able to ease into work without getting more grey hair. And now, seemingly by magic, still waking up at the same time, and suddenly, I’m late. The fire will smoke and refuse to heat up the house and the coffee, and myself, will be more than a bit bitter. Thankfully, this all happens on a Sunday, so we can practice being ticked off before doing it for real.

This morning started out in typical time-changed fashion. The Mrs is still a bit under the weather, and spends a lot of her time coughing in the early morning hours. This morning, I  stumbled downstairs, lit the fire and inhaled some smoke, slurping my first sip of joe, I finally noticed the clock. 3:20 am. Hmm, I can do that. Only a half hour before my normal wake up time. I noticed the fire has gone out.

A little while later, the Mrs comes down stairs and changes the clock. And suddenly, it is 5:30 am. I got up early and now I am behind schedule. An hour later, it’s still dark. I think I burned my tongue on the coffee.

To make up for all that’s wrong with this morning, the Mrs decided to make poached eggs and sausages. Just like Mom would have done, for Dad, while I got stuck with Captain Crunch.


While the sausages are singing in the pan, Sweat Pea, guardian of the property, is joining with the coyotes in song. It sounds way better outside than inside, and nothing you can dance to. An added plus is when he comes in for breakfast, he smells a bit like a Pepe LaPewstink kitty. I then remember that my wife is somewhat French. One man’s perfume is another man’s Pepe La Pew. A fine start to saving time.

Yeah, that last part might not make sense, but neither does daylight savings time. As I write this, the dog is sitting at my feet, smelling like a bad looney tunes episode.

smelly-dog