Daylight Saving Time.
I turned the clocks one hour ahead last night. My ghastly early hour of rising is now an acceptable time for rising, although, perhaps, not on the weekend. Either way, it suits my early-up, morning-nap Sunday routine. In somebody's blog yesterday I read the oft-repeated question: Why do we have to live by clocks, anyway? When I woke up at 4am (really 3am) today, and realized that even for me that would be too early to get up on any day of the week, I was thinking that over the length of this soon to be past winter I have lived less by the clock than ever in my life before. I went to bed at will, sometimes as soon after getting home from work as possible, staying there until time to get up for work. In the winter, that's fine with the dogs now that they are old. We all want to hibernate. Living without a television goes a long way toward not living by the official time.
I never was a habitual moviegoer, but now that I no longer see trailers for movies on tv, I don't know any of the celebrities whose names I see. Husband and I have been watching dvds of movies we saw in theaters years ago. Those actors' names, I know!
Somebody said to me last week, "...back when Brad Pitt was good-looking," and I knew exactly what she meant. Brad has nothing to prove anymore and he's all scraggly and shopworn. Is he cutting his hair by sticking it in a blender? Robert DeNiro's always been kind of scruffy when he's on his own time. I recently mentioned that to somebody and he said, "He doesn't have to impress anybody." Well, yes, that's true. But in theory, none of us has to impress anybody and we don't walk around looking like ungroomed messes.
What an Old Lady I sound like!
And now it's 6:43 (really 5:43). At one clock-changing time when I was twelve I kept doing that "It's really..." that and my friend L sputtered, "Well! If you're going to keep doing that...!" the implication being that I might as well not change the clocks at all.
Gon Out. . . Bisy . . .Backson . . .
15 hours ago