Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Every year, I stop earlier than I want to. Yes, I surrender and join those who have turned their clocks back. I give in only because my absence from the bandwagon is driving family and friends nuts. Somehow, they don't appreciate living in my parallel universe. Even then, though, only the kitchen's time has to go. My bedroom and my wrist are my business.
Well, actually, my watch has now succumbed. Too many people were growing frantic if their eyes fell on my watch when I was out in the world. So a mere few weeks after the kitchen clock backflipped, so did my watch. But as I write this, we've passed the two-month mark, and I'm still saving daylight -- if only in my bedroom.
I already had that clock 20 minutes ahead. So now we're talking a hefty chunk of time between my bedroom hour and everybody else's. As a result, I'm not fooled much. With the exception of the occasional split second before my brain swerves into gear, I am always aware that my bedroom hour is a good distance from Everyone-Else-Around-Here Standard Time.
Most years, it gets old, and I join the throng. One year, I never reached that point. In that case, come April, when everyone else had to put their clocks ahead an hour, mine just stayed put.
At least for the time being, my private clock bestows upon me a unique outlook. Make that two outlooks -- because when I check the time in the bedroom, I have one of two reactions.
Some days I think: Wow. It could be after 10:00, but actually, it's not even 9:00. I am wealthy with time!
On other days, however, my thoughts go something like this:
Hmm. It may not be true, but my clock says a quarter after ten. And that reminds me that 10 o'clock and beyond await me not that far ahead.
To wit, is time half full, or is it heading toward empty?