Daylight Saving Time 2011 began early on the morning of March 13, when some all-powerful force crept into every American home not located in Arizona, Hawaii, or the territories of Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, and the U.S. Virgin Islands, and brazenly stole 60 minutes worth of time from everyone’s life. One moment it was 2 a.m.; a nanosecond later it was 3 a.m. An invisible someone or something had taken an hour from us, just like that!
For me, it’s been hard to put that traumatic Sunday morning in the past.
Fortunately, I knew of the impending theft in advance, so at least I could prepare. But seriously: How does one plan for a day which he or she knows from the outset is going to be more than 4 percent shorter than the previous 364? I’ll admit it: I didn’t get a thing done that day; no one did. It’s just not possible to achieve anything of value in a mere 23 hours, and anyone claiming he (or she) accomplished anything useful during those 1,380 measly minutes that constituted last March 13 is a stone-cold liar.
But thankfully there is some justice: We’ll be getting that time back (without interest, unfortunately) this weekend. Because of the impending suspension of Daylight Saving Time for the next five months, this coming Sunday will contain 25 hours. That presents efficiency-conscious individuals who are motivated to get things done with a pleasant problem: What should we do with this 60-minute windfall we’re about to receive?
Since the additional time we’ll be getting will arrive between 2 and 3 a.m. this coming Sunday morning, it’s likely the vast majority of Americans living outside of Arizona, Hawaii, and those four DST-less territories will spend their surplus hour continuing to check the insides of their eyelids for cracks. But what’s so special about using one’s extra 60 minutes this Sunday for sleeping in? We each get only get one 25-hour day per year. Every responsible American should use his or her bonus time in a creative, worthwhile and productive fashion. I, for one, am bound and determined not to waste a single one of my bonus 3,600 seconds this Sunday.
The first thing I thought of doing with my extra hour was finding a spot in front of a roaring fireplace and reading the Sunday newspaper. But then I recalled two unfortunate realities: Our house lacks a roaring fireplace, and the Journal Tribune only publishes six days per week. That means if I want to realize that particular fantasy I’ll have to make do with some rag like the New York Times or the Boston Globe, and on top of that I’d have to read it in front of either a space heater or an east-facing window.
I know what my oldest son hopes to do with his extra hour. Left to his own devices, he’d opt to spend it sitting in front of a computer being a virtual driver racing virtual racing cars around a virtual track with his virtual friends. At least that’s what he’ll want to do. However, assuming I can get his mother to agree, I will get him off his actual derriere, hand him an authentic rake and a real plastic tarpaulin, and then tell him to get busy raking up some genuine leaves. (Or, given recent developments, I’ll tell him to go shovel some bona fide snow!)
Since my wife works hard all week, I thought I’d help her find a good way to spend her “found time” as well. I proposed that she spend her extra hour in church bonding with our three children. After all, if going to Mass is a good thing, shouldn’t attending two celebrations of the Eucharist on the same day be twice as beneficial? This helpful suggestion was not well-received, however; she responded rather inelegantly with something about me getting off my actual derriere and raking up some genuine leaves.
It’s too bad she didn’t like my idea; if she had, I would have gotten even more time to be at home by myself. Maybe I could have called up one of my old friends. But he’d probably have just been getting some extra shuteye anyway, so there went that idea.
Using the extra hour to clean the garage doesn’t sound like much fun, nor does 60 more minutes of taking in hoses and putting up storm windows.
Maybe it’s just the coming five months of sub-freezing darkness, or the pressure of planning for the impending 49-hour weekend, but the truth is that I haven’t yet thought of anything impactful to do with my extra hour. I’ll tell you one thing though: I will NOT waste it by sleeping in Sunday morning.
Maybe I’ll just go to bed early Sunday night instead.
— Andy Young lives in Cumberland County and works as an English teacher in York County. He spent more than one extra hour producing this column.
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