Hope

Sunday in the Park with Brian: Therapy Session #26 (The Randomness of Time-Slippage Version)

As I peck this out, we are teetering on the precipice of the transition to (or is it from?) Daylight Savings Time. In just a few short hours, at 2am, folks in most parts of America will find their lives rudely shoved forward one hour. To be fair, many of them will not initially notice this jacking with the universe because they are asleep or having sex or drunk, having unwisely uncorked that second bottle of wine during a moment of self-perceived invincibility caused by the consumption of the first bottle.

A certain percentage of couples will be doing all three, because after a few decades of coital machinations with the same person, it’s not unusual for one or both of the partners to drift off during drunken slap and tickle. It just happens. If any of you young whippersnappers out there, with your multiple rounds of rabbit-breeding in one afternoon, think that this will never happen to you, think again. There will come a point in your life when you have sex on the installment plan, trust. Accept it now and grow with the knowledge.

I’ll still be awake. I’m always awake at 2am. It’s just what I do, the result of the synaptic wiring in my brain that makes me a Night Owl. My creativity (if I may be bold enough to call it that) and focus peak in the late and then wee hours. I can be dead tired at 9pm, barely able to keep my eyes open as we slog our way through another episode of yet another do-it-yourself home-improvement program. (You, too, can transform your tired lavatory into a Palace of Recycling if only you have enough gumption. And a team of people to do the actual work for you whilst the camera records you picking out vintage backsplash tiles at Only Rich People Can Afford to Shop Here & Sons.)

But once the last newscast for the evening is unspooling, with vapid spokesmodels sporting unnaturally-gleaming teeth and reading stories (that they did not write) from a teleprompter manufactured in another country, my personal algorithms shift. As Vanna and Vance and their teeth wrap up the final and inevitable reports of Trump doing yet another dumbass thing that has every decent person in the world shaking their heads in disgust, the creaky cogs of my windmill activate.

I fire up my laptop and lose myself in a place where my fiddling with words lessens the impact of the dumbasses and the vapid and maybe, just maybe, those words will give ephemeral comfort to someone else in the quiet night. I go for the laughs here at Bonnywood, most often, but every story I write is grounded in the belief that honest depictions of our varied messiness is so much better than the dishonest vindictiveness of those who refuse to understand that everything is not all about them.

So, yes, I will notice the quiet leap of time in the dark night, about an hour from now, another tick in the journey. I had originally intended to transition this opening to an absurd list of ten odd things that happened to me today. (Teaser: We attended a Neighborhood Association meeting earlier this evening wherein they served the largest hot dogs I have ever seen in my entire life. My mind boggled at how this came to be, especially when an unlucky soul dropped one of said dogs and the foundation of the meeting hall shifted.) But now I feel that intention would sully things a bit. I went somewhere that I didn’t expect when I first opened the Word document, one of the joys of having Night Owl DNA, and I’d rather end my thoughts… right… here.

Cheers.

 

30 replies »

  1. My easily distracted self actually likes this springing forward thing because it thinks it has gotten to sleep in before the furry girl says “it’s time for my breakfast, mom” – after all, despite the level of the light coming in the windows being the same as it was yesterday when I got up an hour earlier (the clock says so), the clock says it’s an hour later. And I believe the clock. Now can we just keep saving daylight all year round?

    Liked by 1 person

    • I really don’t understand the need for daylight savings. After all, you still have to get done what you need to get done, so why make everybody change all their clocks twice a year? As for our furry kids, they pay no attention to the amount of daylight, as their internal clocks never change…

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  2. This means we can expect those ten things TOMORROW, correct? Because you have now tantalized and given the teaser and I’m prepped to read something hilarious about huge sausages 😉 … BUT. This piece today was appropriate and wonderful just as it is. I actually woke early this morning (well it wasn’t as early as it would have been yesterday), and I don’t feel the usual “Oh hell no they didn’t” that plagued me when I was productively employed. Maybe retirement gives one a ‘oh let them do what the hell they want…and so will I!” attitude. Huny, so far, isn’t bothered either…she stayed snuggled in her ‘nest’ (she nests in the blankets during the night. One never knows where she’ll be in the morning, which can be really odd sometimes) and didn’t venture out for quite some time. Obviously the time change isn’t gonna bother HER..

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    • Well, I’m not sure when the huge sausages will appear on the Bonnywood horizon. I did fully intend to document the wacky goings-on at our neighborhood meeting, but once I decided to end this post where I did, the rest of the draft got shoved to the side, a place from which many drafts never return. However, I keep little note-cards on my desk with scribbles about future posts and I just added an entry that “Em wants big sausages!” Hopefully I will remember what this means a few days from now… 😉

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    • Actually, this is Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte”, showing the bourgeoisie on the right bank of the Seine, whilst “Bathers at Asnieres” shows the working class on the left bank. “Afternoon” eventually inspired the creators of the musical “Sunday in the Park with George”, which I subsequently stole and manipulated into “Sunday in the Park with Brian” for the title of this series I’ve been doing for a while. Both paintings are great, though, and now you have me wondering if I should alternate the cover photo depending on each Sunday’s topic. Hmm. Thanks for taking the time to comment!

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  3. My husband, who mostly lives in Massachusetts, is with me in Europe. Yesterday we were due to fly to Germany from France. We needed to leave the flat to walk the 5 minutes to the Airport bus at 9:30 prompt. Imagine my horror when, calmly getting everything ready to go and ticking off all my to-dos on my mental list, he announced it was 9:30 and that he must have made a mistake with the alarm. There followed pandemonium for about 3 minutes followed by the realisation that he was looking at his US phone and that it was YOU who had moved not US. Honestly …. there must be someone in authority I can complain to … my life has now been shortened by far more than 3 minutes, tis clear!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • At the very least, there should be a full-scale investigation into how this horrific atrocity was allowed to transpire, and you should seek full damages for the mental anguish you experienced. On a side note, Scotch the Cat just read your missive and he is volunteering to lead your legal team, on the caveat that he receive 20% of the compensation package. I’m sure you can work something out…

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  4. The first time we left AZ for another state, Hubs was serving a small rural church in Iowa. DST arrived and we were clueless. When he got there an hour late, they were having a lovely time drinking coffee, socializing, and a few were playing cards. (Oh, those Iowans!)
    What would it take to get rid of it, I wonder? I know very few people who actually like it. (Not that it affects me, you know, being in AZ) 😏

    Liked by 2 people

    • DST can be an annoying menace. I once showed up an hour late for a very important committee meeting at Verizon, where I quickly learned that I was no longer needed on that committee. To be fair, my release was surface-based on something aside from my arrival time, but we could all see the elephant in the room. That was fun…

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  5. Usually I breeze through this ridiculous practice, but I’m not able to shake it off this year – and I’m pretty vocal about it. It’s only one hour difference, for pete sake, but I’m having a lot of trouble adjusting.

    I think this means my transition to Old Grumpy Person is now complete.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I will admit, now that I’m retired, that it doesn’t bother me as much. (To be honest, due to the somewhat-structureless structure of retirement (at least in my own case), there are moments when I’m not quite sure what day it is, never mind the time.) But it’s still annoying, and I really don’t see the reasoning for the whole mess. Interestingly enough, that’s the exact same thing some people say when they visit this blog… 😉

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