It's About Time

It's About Time

It seems like a really, really simple thing. I mean, really! At certain times of the year you go to your clocks and watches and chronometers and other timepieces and set the hour forward or backward one unit. If you're performing this task at midnight, you set your clock to either eleven pm or to one am the next day, depending on whether it's spring or fall.

I mean, really, really simple, eh?

And what possible difference would one hour make? How could this adjustment to your clocks make any difference in the world?

I find myself repeating that mantra twice every year and every time I do, my words turn to ashes in my mouth because it makes a lot of difference.

At least it seems to and I'm still not really sure why?

I guess the difficulties are all based on the human diurnal rhythms or our internal clocks. Or the way the sunshine ebbs and flows throughout the year. But it really does seem to be built into us on a sub-conscious level. We always hope that it won't bother us this time, but on the spring morning when you wake up after resetting your clock one hour ahead, your body will disagree with the clock. He will not be happy about your messing with the time.

Not at all.

Of course this phenomenon is really just jet lag hiding in its vernal or autumnal equinox disguise. It is indistinguishable from flying east or west to another time zone.

So, at least in my case, you end up walking around a bit tired and groggy and bumfuzzled for a week or so after the change. Bedtime seems to come too early (or late) and the morning dawns long before you're ready for it or strangely later.

I know there are places here and there that don't fiddle with their clocks twice a year. According to what I read on the internet, Arizona (with the exception of the Navaho Nation), Hawaii and the territories of Puerto Rico, Guam and American Samoa do not participate in this bi-annual procedure, but stay on “standard time” the year round.

I'm not terribly interested in exactly why they chose not to fiddle with their clocks although it's probably a fascinating story. My real question to folks living in those places is this: how do you know when to change the batteries on your smoke detectors? I always use the time change to remind myself to get another pair of nine-volts at the store and stick 'em in the detectors. I'm sure I'd be at a loss in Arizona. Maybe they use Christmas and Independence Day as their reminders. I'll have to ask the next time I see an Arizonan. Or is it Arizonian?

And then there's the question on how do you remember which way to move the hands of the clock? I guess the most memorable mnemonic is the old adage “spring forward and fall back”. Pretty straight forward, eh? But a little adversarial voice inside my noggin always tries to mess me up. He says stuff like, “how about you springing back and falling forward?” I try to ignore that crazy little voice, but he can cause me to second guess myself from time to time.

Another concern with this fun time of year: we have a lot of timepieces around my house. Yes, some of them do the twice-yearly jump all by themselves – the computers and cell phones and the televisions seem to take care of this task with commendable alacrity. Even one of our bedroom alarm clocks also does it. But there always seems to be a lot of battery clocks that require your physical attention and they always seem to be hung just a wee bit higher on the wall than you remembered them being. Or the timepiece needs some complicated pressing of buttons to achieve the desired hour. I had a wristwatch like that. After a couple years of swearing at the darn thing twice a year and trying to reread the instructions with its tiny print and oddly-phrased English, I finally gave up on it and relegated it to a drawer. The learning curve on the beast was sadly more than I wanted to attempt and a lot of the functions that the 873-page instruction manual said would do this or that, wouldn't. Or maybe this feeble-minded button pusher missed one of the manipulations that were required. Whatever the reason, off to the drawer it went. So I backslid to an analog watch a year or so ago with a stem that I could twist and turn and hands that would move to those manipulations. Easy-peasy.

Once in a while I'm guilty of forgetting to reset the clock on the thermostat. Missing that one results in some icy cold mornings when getting out of bed because the setback programs still think you're living on the “other” time. I usually get yelled at by my wife when I miss that one – she's the one that gets up early. And, of course, resetting the time on that isn't exactly easy either.

Even with all the downsides and hassles of changing the clocks, it is kind of nice in the spring to have that extra hour of daylight in the evenings. To do things with the family, to go outside and enjoy the daylight after toiling all day at work.

Except for the sad fact that I work second shift and the extra daylight in the evening is only a tease outside my office windows.

So I trudge along in my acclimation week, sleepy and a bit grumpy, glancing at the clock, mumbling to myself a bit and waiting for my slow-ass body to catch up with the new rhythms of the world.

Should be good to go in about a week. That'd be about time.