This blog turned a year old yesterday — my first post, y’all!!! The same day daylight savings time began and rocked my world as it always does.
Matthew changed the clock the night before, as I’m sure most people do, so that we would wake up and look blearily at the clock and know immediately that we needed to get the kids’ to their tennis lessons on time instead of showing up an hour late and trading who we’d point the giant finger of blame at while piling back into the car to go eat a giant brunch of shame.
What happened instead is that Matthew and the kids got up and ate a healthy breakfast and went to tennis lessons. I remained in my 2-Benadryl-inflicted coma and didn’t even register that it was a new day until about 10. And it took me until 11 for the Benadryl to release me from its groggy hold, at which point I thought, I coulda gotten stuff done today. I coulda been useful. THANKS, BENADRYL. But it’s all 11 and I haven’t even gotten foodstuffs in my belleh yet. I need fuel to be productive. So, my first step was to remedy that so that I didn’t just eat that lemon lying there. I had my
breakfast lunch, and then began to realize rationalize that most of the day was already over and that the day that DST begins always moves at a faster pace anyway (Don’t ask me to explain this except to say that it’s a scientific fact, and you can’t argue with science.) so there was no real point in doing much other than lounging around and continuing to recuperate from being sick the few days prior. And then I blanked out for a bit as I’m also prone to do on the first day of DST.
This happens as I attempt to do math. I could be good at math if only I was interested in being good at math. But I find myself beginning to thing about something that involves a computation (usually of the kindergarten-level of difficulty) and letting my mind immediately wander as a reward for the few seconds of attempting to focus on math. Then, we, my brain and I, try to return to the computation and have to begin at the beginning because we forgot where we were, and we get agitated with each other because someone should have at least remembered where we were before the little mental break, but no. So, we take another break to berate each other. Then, we return to the computation. We get progressively more and more stupid (it’s hard to believe it’s possible) as we continue to attempt to solve the “math problem” which isn’t a math problem at all but more of the barely-qualifies-as-math question.
In this case, my brain and I were tackling the issue of what’s the situation with the timers in the house? Do we need to change the timer on Anna’s lights-up-like-a-cheerful-nightlight-so-why-can’t-we-get-rid-of-her-other-nightlight carousel because it will go off an hour…..? And, here’s where we took our first break because we both got incredibly bored trying to finish the sentence. If I could have looked at my brain, we both would have rolled our eyes at each other and said, “WhatEVER! Who gives a CRAP?” And the break we took was maybe a bit longer than I indicated as we watched two episodes of the best adventure/reality show on television. Which I’m totally going to submit myself as a competitor for. I’m positive that I could rock that competition.
And I think you know the rest. We got briefly stumped on whether we needed to move Anna’s timer forward or back. I will again blame Benadryl. And the fact that I got bored just concentrating long enough to form the question in my mind, so I couldn’t concentrate long enough to care about finding the answer. And the fact that I’m stupid. I would say let’s give 10% of the blame to Benadryl, 50% of the blame to boredom and 100% of the blame to stupidity. That sounds about right. And I did so well with that percentage breakdown, which is math, people, that I might have a math calling. I should probably be a math teacher. I’m going to scrap the writing and concentrate on that. It would really suck to miss my calling. Think of all the poor children that have officially missed out on what I have to offer them. My heart breaks for them.
Anyway, invariably, I spend an hour doing this on the first day of DST. After that, I usually spend about two hours lamenting the fact that I’ll never be able to travel outside of my own timezone because the jet lag hit to my sleep needs would “literally” kill me. I MISS YOU, Chris Traeger!!! This takes two hours because I do math again here, and it gets a little more intricate. What with oceans and Hawaii and the Bermuda Triangle. And Hogwarts. So, of course, it all depends on where I visit. Some places don’t participate in this whole timezone madness, you know. They are better than that. Plus, the mode of travel, too. If I was to make the last leg of the trip via unicorn, well then, the jet lag is cancelled out. Again, science, people. I’ve hit some snags on acquiring a unicorn which would just make the whole damn thing so much easier. Then, I could go to France which is where I want to go first. I would work on my disdain and give as good as I get.
I’m still trying to work out those kinks on acquiring the unicorn. If I just have to get all crafty with a horse, well I’m willing to try that, too. Something tells me that there’s no loophole that’s going to allow a horse to be all bedazzled and modified to sport a giant horn atop the head, so I’m not feeling too confident about this one. I might just have to breed one. The good news on the unicorn breeding is that I have some time to do this. I’m plane phobic, and I’ve heard that it’s really my only way to get out of my timezone, anyway. Well, the only way that makes sense if you plan on going to France. I am reasonably certain that I can’t make that swim. Even if I begin training now. But I’ll look into it.
Oh my gosh, that was a rambler. Well, who am I kidding? Every single damn post seems to be a rambler. But the point of the whole post was to explain why I didn’t post about the anniversary of my blog on the ACTUAL DAY of the anniversary of my blog. I probably should have opened with that last sentence…..