This Sunday is the worst day of the year for me. No it’s not some painful anniversary of a family tragedy or a historic bad day that marks some atrocity. Sunday is the end of Daylight Saving Time.
We will all plunge into darkness at 3 p.m. until my favorite day of the year: March 11, 2018. That’s when we go back to Daylight Saving Time. Yes, I love that day more than I love my own birthday. I love it more than Christmas. Seriously, I do. That’s day when we collectively turn the lights back on, the lakeside decks start to open back up, and I can see the sky again when we get done with the show.
Can someone tell me what genius decided that just as it starts to get dark up here on the 49th parallel, that’s when we should turn our clocks back
an hour? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t we be adding some light to the end of our work days if we’re hell bent on fiddling with everyone’s watch?
“But what about the farmers? How shall they bring in the fall harvest?”
With headlights on million dollar tractors, that’s how.
What are we doing people? Just keeping this antiquated tradition around because that’s how it’s always been? It doesn’t make any sense. Let’s all change our clocks so that the people who leave for work at 6:30 a.m. get the sun in their eyes sooner?
After slow drivers in the left lane, this is my biggest peeve. Can some courageous lawmaker please reach across the aisle and draft a law to banish this stupid tradition?
With all due respect to Benjamin Franklin, we don’t burn candles anymore to light our homes. Let’s rise up with our brethren in Arizona and Hawaii and show that Republicans and Democrats can finally get something done.
Let’s do away with the stupidity that requires us to all change every clock in our life twice a year.
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