An hour has been taken from us. Let’s put aside the fact that daylight savings don’t serve their purpose anymore.
Instead I want to look at the consequences of losing an hour (gaining one is nicer, until it gets dark at 4 pm). The effect of daylight savings ending or beginning, therefore either having an hour more or less in the day, are similar to suffering jet lag and has some negative consequences (find an article here).
In other words, it throws us for a loop. Not much, but enough. Were it not for the fact that I have a day off tomorrow, I would want to be on my way into dreamland by now.
I was tired for much of this morning, because my clock told me that it was later than my body felt it was, which prompted my mind to get all of me going. I’d already lost an hour today, I didn’t want to lose any more. I had places to be after all.
When I am tired, my creativity is virtually non-existent. Even when I don’t want to or feel like writing, sitting down and just getting on with it usually still works. Not so when I am tired.
By nature I am a night owl. I’d much rather write until 3am than during my lunch break at 1pm. Today I am reminded what that feels like. lt’s only 11pm now, but it’s been a long time since last I felt like writing at this hour, let alone still be awake to do so.
There would be nothing wrong with that, except that it cost me half day during which writing was perfectly awful.
I’d love to be a night owl all the time. Yet (repeat after me), not as long as I have a day job, in London, commuting daily on the tube, where only the early bird gets to arrive with most feathers still intact.
Everybody else usually gets to work looking like a plucked chicken, often feeling like a headless one.
I wrote myself tired now, so here I end.