SPRING FORWARD FOR A LONGER BLANKET AND COW PASTURE POOL
This past Sunday morning at 2:00 a.m. Central Standard Time, it was suddenly no longer 2:00 a.m. CST, but in the blinking of an eye (well, actually my eyes were shut at that moment), it became 3:00 a.m. CST daylight savings time.
Yes, this past Sunday was the annual day when we all spring forward to daylight savings time.
We all lost an hour of sleep that we will only gain back next October when we "fall back."
There are two groups of people who do not cope well with this semi-annual movement of the clocks forward and backwards. The first are babies, and the second are old codgers like me.
At the age of 63, I tend to get up with the chickens who, by the way, do not wear wristwatches, although a number of roosters do work part time as alarm clocks.
I’ve been grumpy all week, and although this is pretty much par for the course for me, I’ve been even grumpier than usual considering the fact that when I wake up at 5:00 a.m., it’s not 5:00 a.m., but actually 6:00 a.m.
My late grandfather was born and raised on a farm in the booming metropolis of Deanburg, Tennessee.
Like me, my grandfather got up with the chickens and went to bed after the sun went down. He was very frustrated with daylight savings time, and once described it by saying, “It’s like cutting off the top part of your blanket and sewing it to the bottom so you will have a longer blanket!”
My grandfather only went to school through the fourth grade, but he was a very wise man.
Granddaddy blamed the whole daylight savings time idea on “city fellas who like to play cow pasture pool.”
“Cow pasture pool” was my grandfather’s description of golf.
Mark Twain once said that golf was “a good walk spoiled.”
My grandfather thought golf was a waste of a perfectly good cow pasture.
Once again, my grandfather was right. Daylight savings time is the creation of city folks who want to play golf after work on spring and summer nights, which because of daylight savings time, are not nights at all, but rather ridiculously long days.
I gave up cow pasture pool a long time ago when I realized that the only way I would ever break 100 would be by taking an unlimited number of mulligans. I now like to run, and I try to do so every morning. But now that daylight savings time has arrived, it is pitch dark when the confused rooster crows and I head out the door for a morning run, which is not a morning run at all, but actually a middle-of-the-night run, even if it is 6:00 a.m.
Well, I’m tired and grumpy, not to be confused with the law firm by the same name.
There is only one thing to do. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up in October.