Counting the Headlights on the human highway

Did you remember to set your clocks and watches back last night? Yeah, "spring forward, fall back" finally arrived and not a moment too soon for some of us. I've always thought Wimpy came up with this back and forth of the clock. "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for some daylight today." Maybe just me, but it's so 'cut six inches off the back of the blanket and sew it on the front and claim the blanket's a foot longer', it's painful.

And at some point today, or tomorrow (if it's your first day back at work), you'll find the one timepiece somewhere you didn't reset and be surprised and a bit chagrined as if you are the only one on earth to whom this has happened. Don't worry-I do it every time we do the Time Warp Again (Tim C dreams he could get anywhere near into that outfit these days).

I have a watch that 'automatically knows the date' (says the brochure) but not the day because it's the perpetual calendar model. I think the altar boy in me bought it just for the model name. I have never understood how it tracks the months with their different number of days and compensates. It is uncanny. I've been known to look forward to the end of February just to catch my watch, and Curse Your Black Heart Timex!, foiled again and always. This might be where my Catholic upbringing comes in handy since I'm comfortable believing in things I can't see and I sure can't see how my watch knows when a Leap Year is and when it's not. (And why aren't all the months the same length in the first place? Those darn calendar-makers and their D. C. lobbyists, I'm sure.)

Is it possible, do you suppose, to strike a deal with God to save up all these hours we so heedlessly and needlessly fritter and fret away while moving the big hand on the clock and cash them in at, or near the end of our lives? Sort of a rebate or a bonus. I mean how many of all the hours of our lives have we spent waiting and wishing for time to pass more quickly? Perhaps someone is storing them in a box with our name neatly written in block letters, for future retrieval. It could even be in joined up writing as long as there's no second E in my last name, and come to think of it, correct spelling is so overrated.

Remember when you were eight and a half, and that fraction was so important. Neil next door is still just eight, but I am 'and a half' and Bobby isn't even eight until the middle of next month. I just realized as I type, I've been 56 and a half for a whole week--could've gone a whole year NOT admitting that, or wanting to. And now, I keep half an eye on the doorway, in case I'm the next one called to the exit. The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say.
-bill kenny