This past weekend was the yearly appointment to turn the clocks back one hour in America. For those of you who are not in a country with time changes, this is when a country turns the clocks ahead on a Saturday one hour every spring and back again every fall on the opposing Saturday. It gives us an extra hour of daylight for summertime evening for activities. It usually means someone is an hour late on the Sunday in the spring and an hour early in the fall.
After twenty-seven years of time changes with my wife, I learned it is easier for me to just change them. Over the year my proposal was I change the computer and cell phones. Then she could change the rest of them. Being a bright lass, my wife gave me the eye that stated she was not that dumb and I changed them all.
I failed to understand how many clocks are under my control until Wednesday. This week my wristwatch didn’t change until Monday and my car clock changed on Tuesday. The family room clock called me lacking on Wednesday when noticing it was an hour ahead. Come Friday morning I am pretty sure I got them all, time will tell.
Did I mention, my dog is a Karen? Karens do not like anything that distorts their view of the world and how the world should revolve around them. This past Saturday, I turned all the clocks back in the house by one hour to match most of The United States. This meant we slept in and still got up a half-hour before normal. We went to Church and easily filled the rest of the day on the new time.
Ginger, our dog has no concept of time let alone the idea of changing from savings time to standard time. Three o’clock rolls around and she believes it is four o’clock her normal feeding time. Watching American football at a quarter after three, she comes down to me pacing like it is the end of the world. I rise at a commercial break to let her out and she sprints upstairs. A little later, my wife posts a picture on Facebook of her getting a dirty look from our loving dog because it is a half-hour after normal feeding time. At a quarter to four and over the sounds of the game, I hear a constant grumbling and moaning from our resident Karen over not being fed on her clock. Her mom gives in and feeds her fifteen minutes early.
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