The annual rant is on...

I hate this time change rigamarole.  Okay, I like the extra hour in the fall, but only because I feel so assaulted by its loss in the spring.  As I grow old, adjusting to change gets to feel like recovering from a hit up the side of my head.  There are all these clocks that need changing, everywhere.  I keep looking up at the wall clock over my computer and mentally subtracting that hour I added last night.  What time is it, REALLY?  So this year, I went on strike.  Not that the powers that make up this stuff are going to notice, but I slept in till noon, which was really only 11 AM, because I stayed up till 1 AM, which was really midnight.  The dogs were getting restless for their normal feeding time, which is usually 11 AM, but today was noon.  It is 2:30 PM now, really 1:30 PM, so it probably is not so shameful that I am still in my PJs, streaming some Rachmaninoff on ITunes and playing computer games, with a cup of coffee which I usually stop drinking at 1 PM.  Oh, hell, I think I'll just go shopping.  And I better hurry, because it is bleeping Sunday, and everything is closing an hour sooner than it should.