The loss Of a Beloved Hour

An hour of life was lost this weekend, and I am suffering the consequences today.  Ohhhh, daylight savings how you hurt me so.  I woke in a fog that won’t dissipate; in fact, it’s becoming thicker as the day progresses.

 

Image result for daylight savings

There’s a sadness.  A sadness that is felt when something doesn’t feel right.  My eyes sting; my head aches, and nothing seems as it should.  Will this pass?  Has the movement of time altered reality for the worse?  It’s meant to spring us forward, but it isn’t spring.  Not here.  Snow banks still line the street sides, and gloved hands still shiver in the wind.

Gloom.  That is what the lost hour has left me.  Tired and sad.  There is a resolve for this state, but the obligations required to support myself impede it.  You see, I need a fucking nap.  But I have to work, and napping is frowned upon here.  All I want is to lay my head down on a soft pillow and close my eyes.  I want to curl in to a fetal position with a cozy blanket wrapped around me.  Sleep.  I want to sleep.  I want to drift off to a place I can mourn the loss of my hour.  I want to drown myself in zzzzzzzzzzz’s until I forget that hour ever existed.  I stare into the face of the clock, and I’m reminded of what once was.  WHY?  Why do you do this daylight saving?  Why?

 

 

 

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