An ode to Daylight Saving Time

Anticipation: 

one lost hour promises more. 

Daylight Saving Time.

On the first morning of Daylight Saving Time, when we turn our clocks forward one hour, I wake up in the dark, start my chores and tasks for the day with less time than my body's clock feels I have, perhaps on less sleep than I would have liked.

The first morning of Daylight Saving Time is not Daylight Saving Time’s best side. Usually.


This year, for the first time, I experienced an immediate merit to Daylight Saving Time this first morning. I woke up to a cat walking over me and pawing at my covers, like she does every morning an hour before her breakfast time, begging for pets and adoration and, perhaps if she is annoying enough, early breakfast. Only this morning, thanks to Daylight Saving Time, this begging didn’t start until.... her breakfast time. Cats don’t know we have sprung forward.

The sun will set tonight at 7:09pm where I live. The hour I lost this morning will pay itself back with many hours gained in extra sunshine when I leave work, sunshine in which to play or be productive or enjoy my home. I am always more productive during the daylight. My home always looks better in the daylight.

I know that tomorrow, Monday morning, when I take my morning walk it will be a little darker than my morning walks last week. Dark enough, perhaps, to discretely pick an excess lemon hanging over the sidewalk for my kitchen, or to pluck a stalk of lavender or a freesia to perfume my bathroom.

The first day of Daylight Saving Time is a lesson in delayed gratification, lush with anticipation. If we can be optimistic, wipe the sleep from our eyes those first few mornings and be just a little patient, we know that this one shortened day promises many longer days. It promises spring blossoms, the imminent summer and everything it means to each of us. It promises much to anticipate, with only a short wait.

Wait.

Best things I read this week, March 1-7

Ya gotta read a lot if you want to write a little. Here are some of the best things I read this past week:

"I am not someone to be chosen as a last resort, but someone to be lusted after and pursued.

Although I am a sexual being, I am not an object. I can do so much better than men who see only my fat body and what they can do to it."

"This is an Essay About a Fat Woman Being Loved and Getting Laid"

by Sarah Hollowell (@sarahhollowell) on The Toast (@TheToast)

That's it for this week. That's how much I loved this essay. It's everything. When I first read this Tuesday morning, I actually felt upset that I had read it at work and not at home: I wanted to jump up, yell, exclaim, scream. I wanted to dance and shake and feel the energy this brought up within me shoot out of my finger tips embodied in sparks. 

This essay deals with fat bodies and sex; I hope neither offends you but I really don't want to hear it if it does. Sarah Hollowell speaks honestly and bravely about her body, fighting the pervasive propaganda she cites in her essay. She acknowledges her desirability. In writing and sharing this, she acknowledges mine. 

All this is to say that I can't say enough how much I loved reading this and wish everyone could and would read it too. The least I could do it give it the spotlight here that it deserves.