A short post not related to the “Should Daylight Savings Time even exist?” question (though, for the record, growing up in Hawaii where DST doesn’t exist, I’m not its strongest proponent):
In the past, the end of DST and the beginning of Standard Time meant for me an extra hour of sleep. One year, this happened after a Saturday night of post-Halloween weekend dress-up shenanigans. I was especially grateful for “falling back” then, and generally have always preferred it to “springing forward.”
This year (tonight… right now), is a different case. The end of DST this year means for me an extra hour to work on my master’s thesis. Since I need a finished first draft of this thesis in about 6 weeks, I have resigned myself to needing to spend all weekends ’til then powering through on this baby. And especially with an uber-busy schedule this quarter (three classes, three days of field per week, co-chairing a student organization, and of course thesis), I most certainly should be (and am) grateful for that extra hour.
However, it is a bittersweet gratitude. I’d definitely rather have an extra hour of sleep.
But instead, I’m ringing in the return of standard time by cozying up to a huge bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup, my laptop, and Chapter 2 of my thesis (misleading of how far I really am, since I started with Chapter 2).
But honestly, things could be worse. Good thing I drank a cup of Intelligentsia at 5pm.