down with the fall back

We all have our causes. The ones that are close to our hearts, and the things that must change. So there are the super serious ones, which we won’t be discussing here today since those always bring out trolls with rabies and aintnobodygottimeforthat. {That’s what Facebook a-la 2020 was for, amirite?!}

Then there are the seemingly trivial ones, important in their own way.

Some believe that we should do away with all the terrible drivers – I’m pretty close to installing a rocket launcher on the front of my car. Others believe that selfie addicts with weird filters should be put on social media probation. And I’m waiting for someone to invent a folding mechanism on my dryer… I’d really just settle for Rosie from The Jetsons at this point. {It’s almost 2023 and I’m STILL WAITING.}

But digression, because I’m coming to you this morning from my tiny corner of the www to say that one thing must stop. It’s that time of year again. Anyone else looking forward to being perpetually exhausted this week?

Down with the fall back. Stop. Making. Us. Change. Our. Clocks. 

Stop changing the time, period. People always want to take issue with my complaint. Cool. Let me make it clear when I say, I’ll be just as angry in the spring. I’m like a confused toddler missing five naps on a sugar high. Pick a lane and JUST MAKE IT STOP. I’m officially concerned. Today, I’m choosing the fall back because it is the current issue at hand and it makes me feel better.

Burn it to the ground and scatter its ashes to Jupiter, after sending it up on a phallic rocket ship, never to return. Better yet, send the people who still enforce said time changes and believe strongly in them, to Jupiter. Bon voyage, jerks. WHO is in charge?

Can I get a Care Bear stare with three extra shots of espresso and a million dollars to get me through the next few days or something? Because I’m not looking forward to being perpetually exhausted this week. The time change always seems to line up with a nice side of insomnia because it’s like a fun extra challenge. Like wearing a bag over your head on American Gladiators while you’re pummeled by giant q-tips via professional wrestlers until you fall into a vat of molten lava. Champagne probs but can we make it stop already? Get your extra hour of sleep, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Those people never ever in a bazillion years, had a child. Or puppy.

Or soul. 

The kids get out of school at like 3:30 and that’s it. The day’s over. It’s dark outside. To whom do I write in congress? What floor do I take with a filibuster or some other word that sounds important since I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about and don’t really care? Just tell me who to harass IRL and I will rally and march with the weird shaped clock hats just to bother everyone. I am an ACTIVIST. I am ACTIVATED. 

The Senate passed a bill. GOD BLESS THOSE PEOPLE WE’RE FINALLY GOING SOMEWHERE. It’s in the house now. Let’s make T-shirts.

IT happens every year. After my fourth night of hobbling back to bed at 7:30, I complained to Jamin, on the verge of tears the next day. It didn’t help that the time change also came with my lady cycle and a wretched bout of allergies all at once. It’s like the universe just wants me to die. “You do this every year,” he said, rolling his eyes at my crumpled state while I sat withered on the sofa.

Thanks. That’s super helpful. I’m sucking down vitamins hoping I don’t die, and you like to remind me that I’m a weak human being who “does this every year”. 

I’m quietly waiting for him to run out of toilet paper again in the bathroom so I can aptly remind him he “does this every time” while I do a revenge saunter by the door and leave him there to suffer. 

::I’m a 4 on the enneagram. Penchant for drama noted::

Side note: It’s true. I DO actually DO THIS EVERY YEAR. Because it’s the same situation right this very moment since I published this post years ago. I just googled to see if Mercury is in retrograde or something. I really don’t understand how it happens every year. I was thinking positively and everything and then last week was a doozie with stress and life and it did me in.

This space, amongst others, is still in the works! Coming soon with updates, promise.

I can chalk it all up to being a sensitive person. I feel as though I should have a light system on my desktop, ready to go with an I.V. of vitamin D for my seasonal affective disorder that’s bound to hit any day now. Pair all the rain soon to arrive, with a severe lack of sleep because the government said so, and I’m feeling a little testy.

Nay. Stabby.

Between that and sunlight, and my intense need for water, I’m a sad, neglected houseplant. And a number 4 houseplant at that, which basically makes me super special complicated. 

::Jamin rolls eyes::

I know that they came up with this in some farmer land settler days when they had nothing to do but go to bed and conserve their energy, because they had to pick cotton and battle mountain lions and that sucks for them because life was sad. But I’m grateful for our advances which brought me here as a modern day human. For what it’s worth, I also would have been burned at the stake for having an individual thought without my husband to speak for me in the name of being a witch, so I think it’s time we all move on with the time change, also.

I’ve definitely morphed into a combo of that girl from “The Exorcist” and “The Ring” whilst speed crab crawling up the stairs to bed each night, which I feel are both apt characterizations and thematically appropriate, to say enough already. It’s not healthy. It’s just not. My body is telling me this. It revolts every year. 

I know I have no right to complain because I’m not a farmer, and I no longer have insufferable toddlers that will wake up at 4 a.m. But oh wait I do get to complain. I did my time, and I’m also the proud owner of anxiety, so if the universe could just help me out, that would be great. Who scheduled the time change with allergies? Get it together, government. Hawaii here we come. Aren’t they like, exempt or something?

Photo by Braden Jarvis on Unsplash

Total champagne probs, but we’re already dealing with malfunctioning brains due to internet stressors, and I’m still recovering from and processing the last two pressure cooker years, reeling from society’s total ability to act like real pieces of moldy wet lettuce… so why don’t we just cut it out with the archaic time changes already?

I feel like the beginning of the end of summer is a bit like preparing for the apocalypse with me. Everyone is all, YAY HAY RIDES AND PUMPKIN SPICE nonsense in 90 degree weather. I knew it was coming and this is the beginning of it all. It’s like a tiny punishment when we had to shut down our pool so it’s kind of bumming me out. It’s batten down the hatches because we all know cold rainy weather is not my thing. And it all starts with the time change.

{I was relieved when I learned it’s not just me.}

The beginning of the end. I’m ready to go into hibernation for the rest of the year.

The irony is not lost on me that my late great grandmother landed a shout out via Ripley’s Believe It Or Not for the most cotton picked in a day. I can barely handle two weeks of installing pavers in our front yard. And here I am, griping about the time change with my fist clenched to the gods. She’s mocking me right now, probably sending another sleepless night in the form of a nose bleed from one of our children. Oh wait, that was last night. And it was Jamin.

I am the opposite of enlightened and evolved… I’ve become soft and weak and I’m totally fine with my propensity to pajamas and Netflix. She would have too, if it were an option. So I shouldn’t have to change my clock. 

Yes, I am entitled. 

pssst… see this space here + don’t miss our giveaway here!

Once upon a time it was a thing where people shame others for decorating for the holidays “too early”. And it’s also a thing where people no longer care because I think in 2020 everyone was just glad to still be alive whilst also not murdering other people. So now that all rules are thrown out the window, WHY NOT THE TIME CHANGE ALSO?! For the record, I’ve always been a purist, but life is short. I’ve decided if throwing up a nice dose of holiday cheer keeps you sane, then so be it. 

So here I am, bringing my ostrich head out of the leftover Halloween bowl proclaiming it’s most definitely a cycle of dopamine-inspired coping mechanisms for the win. Who’s with me?

Here’s to you, my fellow struggle bus, anti time-changing friends. If you’re looking forward to coming out of the other side of the haze like me, I do hope you’re adapting well. I’ve decided a little less social media, a lot of holiday cheer, and more naps… are always a good buffer.

But if we can all agree on one thing, it’s down with the fall back.