04.02.00

 Twice a year, every year, Daylight Savings Time seems to screw me over. Either I'm late for something or I'm early for something or I make an ass of myself by insisting it's only 11:08 when it's really 12:08 or 10:08 (I've lost bets over this one). It takes me a week to adjust my inner clock and the six or eight digital and analog clocks in the house. Don't even mention the watches. Actually, I think I'm all set there as I never changed them in the fall. Oh, and the car clock. Maybe I'll just put a piece of tape over it tomorrow (not that I'm driving anywhere, I live in the city dontcha know).

I dislike living in a society that is so obsessed with time. I recently spent a blissful two years where time meant nothing to me. I woke up when I was ready. Hopped on the "L" to work. Did what needed to be done. Hopped on the "L" home. Went to bed when I was tired and got up the next morning to do it all over again. I only cared what time it was on Sunday night when I'd tune into 60 Minutes and later the X-Files. (Sunday evening rituals. Gotta have 'em.) Oh, and movies. Had to know what time they started and act accordingly.

Since we moved over the summer, I take the Metra to work now. Trains run on schedules. Tight schedules. The conductors aren't nice and never EVER hold up the train if you are late. Sometimes conductors even laugh as they close the doors on your red and winded face, as if that's the punchline to some obscene train joke filthy conductors tell themselves to relieve the shame of having a dead end job. Trains also run infrequently so if you miss one, you're waiting a good 45 minutes or more for the next one.

This means I live by Metra time. I'm a clock watcher. I'm one of those people that say, "Oh dear! If I don't leave right this instant, I'll never make the 6:35!" I don't like it very much, but the alternative is living at a train stop, waiting for the next one. (If the stops didn't smell like urine, I might not mind this.)

I use an alarm clock now, but I freely abuse it. (I'm convinced snooze buttons are the spawn of Satan or the workings of my mother whom I tortured as a child--refusing to get up when she pleaded, begged, and cajoled me to.) I set the alarm nearly an hour before the very last moment I can possible catch the very last train that gets me to work before 9:15. I then spend the very last hour of decent sleep I'm going to get being awoken by a mind-numbing beeping every ten minutes. This reeks havoc on dreams, creates a sense of panic not conducive to mornings, and generally pisses me off. I get up grumpy and I don't like being grumpy. (Hula hates when I'm grumpy even more than I hate being grumpy. I've said grumpy four times in the last three seconds. I'm saying "grumpy" in my head right now and it has completely lost its meaning for me. Grumpy.)

Okay, I know you're saying, "Just set the freakin' alarm an hour later and get up then!"

How practical of you to suggest that. How logical. Too bad you're a LOSER. Don't you get it? Do you think I'm such an idiot that I haven't thought of this before? Let me clue you in. Plain and simple, it doesn't work for me. If I set the alarm for the last possible moment, the moment that if I don't get up this instant I will surely miss the train, I can't sleep. I'll keep eyeballing the goddamned clock all night until I have 45 minutes left. What good can come of 45 minutes worth of sleep? Not much, let me assure you.

Speaking of which, one of my clocks say it's 10:45, the other 11:45. Which clock did I change? What time is it? How many hours of sleep can I sleep? What about my watch? If I'm used to catching the 8:35 at 7:35, or was it 9:35, how will I know when to get up?

Damn those farmers. Damn them to hell.

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