I am not a spontaneous, “Hey, you know what we should do right now?” spur-of-the-moment kind of gal (although perhaps I would make an exception if that idea for what we should do right now involved shoe shopping or ice cream…). I like my transitions to be the way they should be, slow and gradual. Ease me into it. Let me take my time. I am happy with long escrows, long pregnancies, planning vacations months ahead of time.
But the world doesn’t usually agree with me on this. Things happen and things change on a dime and I have learned (forced myself) to adapt, be flexible, and deal with it. Except for in one key area….
No. No! NO!! I fight it kicking and screaming every time. For days (some might argue weeks) afterwards, I tell my husband, “it is not really 8:00. It is actually REALLY 7:00” or “I have to get up tomorrow at 4:00 IN THE MORNING even if it says 5 on my clock” or “I’m going to eat lunch at 10:0o because daylight savings time messed me all up and my stomach is telling me the real time.” He rolls his eyes at me and tells me that I am just making myself crazy. Just live with it. Move on.
But no, I would rather throw myself on the floor and scream until someone gives me my hour back. And no, I don’t really want it back in the fall, so don’t try to tell me it’ll be back then.
I want it to never go away and never have to come back.