Terry Mackin: Not ready to go over to the dark side

November 3, 2013 

Spring forward, fall back.


Early this morning or late last night, we turned back our clocks an hour. Click. Daylight-saving time ended. Darkness now will arrive an hour earlier every evening until spring.

At this very moment, I'm not certain what time it is, officially.

Somewhere, I'm told, there are people who are happy this morning and appreciate the end of daylight-saving time. Some farmers, school bus drivers, and urban commuters prefer an extra hour of morning light for safety reasons.

Sorry, but I don't trust a person who prefers an extra hour of daylight in the morning instead of evening.

Probably likes to have deep, meaningful conversations in the morning, too. Meets friends for early-morning coffee. All bright-eyes and in-your-face.

Dinner in the dark.

What's wrong with you morning people?

Sleep in, just once, and you may be able to stay awake past the sixth inning of a World Series game.

I know. Accept it. Happens every fall. Deal with it. Turn back your clock and move on, Mackin.

Ignore me. I'm crabby because I know there's nothing ahead but several months of colder weather and early, dark evenings. And soon, I'll have to wear a coat.

I prefer cold weather to hot weather but I hate wearing a coat.

I have about a dozen coats, and all of them are in good condition because I rarely wear them.

Coats are stuffy and restricting.

Make me look rounder than I am.

Can't play catch in a coat, if I'd ever play catch again.

If I don't have to wear a coat, then I don't have to take it off, push it aside, and forget it in the restaurant. Again.

One day soon, now that DST has ended, some dark, boring evening, I'll have that day of reckoning when I have to try on all my coats from last year to ensure they fit and determine which ones I'll keep this winter.

I'll have a lot more free time for irrelevant, in-home chores now that it gets dark an hour earlier each evening.

May even file all those old columns stacked on the file cabinet.

Toss out all those single socks in the basket, too.

My annual "Fall Try on Old Coats Day" is not as bad of a day as spring's "Try on Last Summer's Shorts Day."

I think that's my problem today.

Not really about the clocks, or that I gained a worthless extra hour of light in the morning, and evenings have lost some purpose.

I'm not ready to wear a coat, physically and symbolically. Yet.

I'm not ready to mulch my leaves, and get mad at the one resident who burns his leaves and twigs to fill an otherwise wonderful day with smoke. Yet.

I'm not ready to not hear Mike Shannon every night on the radio, and the daily conversations with co-workers about life in Cardinal Nation. Yet.

I'm not ready for Thanksgiving, much less the holiday ads, bargains, gift lists, music and for Santa Claus to come to town. Yet.

I'm not ready for Nat King Cole. Yet

I'm not ready for the Golf Channel. Yet.

I'm not ready to ponder joining a workout club again, and going for a trial run, and finding myself more inclined to sit and watch others work out than work out myself. Yet.

I'm not ready to scrape ice off my windshield, and face that bitterly cold, Chicago-like wind that always hits me in the face and numbs my ears at the gas pump. Yet.

I'm not ready for salt on the sidewalk, that may keep me from slipping, but also follows me into my car, office and home. Yet.

I'm not ready for soups, chili and hot chocolate. Yet. Well, I'm ready for hot chocolate. Always.

I hate today.

Grab a coat or you'll catch cold.

Wipe your feet before you come indoors.

Better fill up your gas tank or your car will freeze.

Get your flu shot yet?

Spring forward, fall back.

Yep. It all starts today.

I hate today.

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