Things aren’t working today. First, just one little thing. Then another. And before you know it, there are many, many little things, not working right, all piling up. Over there. As the time clicks on, the pile gets larger and begins encroaching on my space.
Now, let me talk about that space for a moment. And if I sound cranky, if you can hear it with your speakers turned all the way up, it is for good reason. I am cranky right now, because of that aforementioned pile over there. But let’s get back to that later.
First the space, then the pile.
We all have our own space. Not only do we physically occupy a certain “ area and volume” on Planet Earth – with our bodies – we also carry around other kinds of spaces. First there is our mental space. Then there is our emotional space. And finally, our spiritual space. All four of these areas are knitted tightly together within us. So if one gets a little knot, they are all sure to feel it.
Case in point. A knot. On my knee. It happened because of this confounded Daylight Savings Time, where on this day, we have to push our clocks forward. So this morning, at 3:30 when I get up, which is truly 2:30, I go upstairs to set clocks. One of the bedrooms is dark, but I know my way around. Until I slam my knee into the corner of the dresser. Now right there. Freeze frame this moment. My knee is feeling the blast. The physical space. It calls on my mental space to respond. The reactionary expletive. Then on to my emotional arena. The exuding anger. And finally, my spiritual realm. All peace has been abandoned as I wish to wage war on a piece of wooden furniture.
I am blaming Daylight Savings Time for all the things not working right. That was one. But earlier, our internet went out. I’m sure the cause was DST. Now we can piggy-back and limp along on our country-bumpkin-cell-phone signals. You see, out here, we are not big-city 5G, 4G or otherwise. We are more like those hand-crank type phones that you used to see in the General Store on Walton’s Mountain. That’s us.
At any rate, society has forced us to rely on an internet connection for nearly every part of our lives.
The next down turn was when I went to pay bills. I am a stickler for going through each month’s statement, to make sure nothing has been tacked on needlessly in the world of hacking-tackers. But, as you may have gathered, I need to have internet access to pay the bills, which I can do, on my limp-along cell phone signal, if I want to dredge through.
So I dredged. Only to hit the “Pay Bill” button and find their website is down due to Daylight Savings Time “Scheduled Maintenance.” Oh, the knitted fabric in me completely unraveled at that point.
The rest of the day proceeded, much in the same way.
On the very best of days, I am a worrier. It is by design. I think both my mother and my father passed this on to me genetically. But then there were years of training which followed, young Grasshopper. I also learned from my environment. The bottom line. I am the word angst. And while I work very hard on this, through meditation, breathing, and “predictable” space, I find it very hard on all four of my knitted fibers, when things go awry.
All because that New Zealand scientist, George Vernon Hudson, thought Daylight Savings Time was a good idea. Not Ben Franklin. He merely suggested that Parisians get out of bed earlier in the mornings. Jokingly. It was Hudson who proposed this DST in a paper in 1908. People listened.
And now things aren’t working.
Beginning an hour earlier than before.
That pile. This space.
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“How did it get so late so soon?”
― Dr. Seuss
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“I’ll tell you how it is so late so soon, Seuss.
Daylight Savings Time is on the loose.”
— Polly Kronenberger
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“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
― Mother Theresa
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“And we’ll have to begin an hour earlier, today, Mother T.”
— Polly Kronenberger
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