Daylight Savings (all the) Time
It is the time of year when I have to throw away the makeup I bought during the summer to better blend with my tan because I am now, once again, back to being as pale as a whale’s underbelly. In other words, winter is upon us. The days are shorter, the air is crisper and the lonely nights just got a little lonelier. The only thing worse than winter itself is having to wave goodbye to Daylight Savings Time, as though it is a lover insisting upon a 6-month restraining order (a feeling I know all too well). The excitement of having that extra hour at 2 a.m. in which to do whatever I please always wears off so quickly, leaving only the reality of sunlight slipping away every evening at 5 p.m. as I walk home, making me more susceptible than ever to rapists and other violent figures who lurk behind shaded alleyways and shrubbery. (But at least for the next two weeks I can continue to justify every wasted hour by the remembrance of that extra hour gained.)







