What Time is It, Really?

I don't take kindly to The Man* telling me to change my clocks back and forth an hour twice a year. What power and control, to manipulate time like that!

From the time I was a child to young adulthood, changing times didn't bother me. I was a bit bummed when I'd lose an hour of sleep, but was happy to get an extra hour later in the year.

Things have changed. I survive by keeping on a schedule for eating and sleeping. I get low blood sugar if I don't eat every three hours or so (well, not during the night!). I'm also used to going to bed and awaking at the same time every day, even on week-ends. It's called, "Getting Old."

 With Daylight Saving Time (I learned it's "Saving," not "Savings" like I've been saying all my life), my body clock doesn't match the wall clock. I'm not hungry when the clock says it's time to eat. I'm not tired when it says it's bedtime. And I don't want to wake up when it says it's time to get up.

The first few days of every time change, I keep asking myself, "What time is it, really?" My dad also asks me the same question during our daily morning phone calls.

This year, I got smart. I made a cheat sheet with the time conversions so I wouldn't have to figure it out each time. I'm a bit sheepish to show it, but obviously not that proud because I'm posting a photo!

I want to be Arizona or Hawaii and ignore time changes. 

*I asked my 23 year old son if he knew what "The Man" meant, in case I needed to define it for all you youngsters. He said, "Yes, like the government." He's hip. He's with it.