In my office there are four things that tell me the time whenever I decide to look at them. Five things if you count the window, which while not as accurate as the clocks, still managed to let me know the general time- morning, afternoon, evening. Some days that is enough. Maybe it should always be enough. I like the days when there is no schedule to follow, no appointments to meet, no agenda except the one that begins with an idea, a thought, a concept and continues until it is completed or I get tired, or it gets dark.
So this morning, I wake up at four, but it really three. Then I go back to sleep and wake up at six, but it is really five. I spend a while sitting up and looking at the clock (which always includes putting on my glasses since the digital readout on the clock is deceptive unless in focus) and figuring if it is an hour later or an hour earlier and how long it is until I have to get up (I work at some point this morning). Then I get frustrated because my internal clock is just fine with the way it has been responding to the lightening of the sky and the time of day it gets dark and it knows the exterior signals of “get up”, “go to the mailbox”, “eat something” and “go to bed.”
Now it all changes and the confusion starts so early in the morning. This wouldn’t be a problem, I hate to think I am so conditioned to routine (even one as universal as the tracking of the sun) that I can’t adjust. Maybe it’s the idea that I will adjust, of course, and then four or five months from now the whole time thing reverses and I have to relearn. There is a certain communal mind-fuck about this whole daylight/standard thing. Must we manipulate everything?
I am pretty sure this is why I no longer wear, haven’t worn for years, a watch. I despise the way time has become a responsibility.