If I asked you what your favorite day of the year is, your stock response might be a major holiday, particularly one involving presents under a tree, or perhaps your birthday. But if, like me, you’re of the chronically sleep deprived set, the end of Daylight Savings time might top your list instead.
For me, the day when clocks “fall back” an hour thus allowing me an extra 60 minutes of blissful repose under my duvet is most definitely my favorite. Yes, even more than Christmas.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against presents. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to recognize sleep as more precious than even the most beautifully wrapped gifts.
It wasn’t always that way, of course. In my rowdier youth, I made use of that extra hour, not for sleep, but for staying out an hour longer. Ahhh. Good times. Unfortunately, it all caught up with me at some point -probably around the time I hit 30.
Now, at the incredibly advanced age of 34, sleep is the hot commodity, rather than a riotous night out on the town. (Not that I don’t still enjoy a good night out on the town.)
But, anyway, back to the clocks falling back.
There is just something wonderful about adding an extra hour to the day, any day. Wouldn’t it be even more wonderful if it took place, not on a Sunday, but on a Monday?
Imagine how great it would be to start the week by getting to sleep in an extra hour. Ahhhh… The very idea makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Or having an extra hour on deadline. Yep, I could definitely get behind that.
There is a drawback, though, to the clocks clicking back a notch. Sure, it was light this morning for my commute in to work (although that might have been more to do with the fact that I was 30 minutes or so behind schedule – which didn’t make me late per se, just not as early as I normally get in to start my day), but I know full well that it will be dark entirely too early tonight. And it will just get worse over the next seven or so weeks as we count down to December 21, the shortest day (in terms of daylight) of the year.
Ugh. How depressing.
Maybe I should re-evaluate my choice of favorite days. Maybe it should be December 22, when the scale finally starts to swing the other way.