So, it’s that glorious day when an extra hour of sleep is given. People actually get to church early and there is energy aplenty because we are all burping from the extra sleep.
Except me. Here is how it worked at my house.
I have one of those lovely phones that reminds me of my every obligation. It does so by way of a beeping alert ten minutes prior to my inputted commitment.
I put Daylight savings into my phone, just so I wouldn’t forget it. For some reason, I logged it in to commence at midnight.
I sleep with my phone in my bedroom. Because I have three children and because I am on call 24/7, I plug it into a socket across the room in my bedroom. Ever vigilant am I.
When I got up this morning, I felt none of the joy of extra sleep. I felt run over by a bus. Cooper too was a bit groggy. As we swapped “Wow, I feel tired” stories, he suggested that I check my text mail box, since it sounded to him like I was getting texts all night.
That sent my alert mode racing. I went to my phone to retrieve what I was sure were urgent messages from my kids.
And what I found was that all night long, every ten minutes, my phone had done what it was programmed to do: remind me that it was the day when a holy extra hour of sleep was possible.
I vaguely remember waking up through the night wondering why my phone was lit up. But in that sleep fuzzled way of wee hours, I didn’t rouse myself enough to investigate.
Instead, I slept, or didn’t sleep, as every ten minutes my phone spoke its warning message.
Technology is a fine thing, but it is only as good as the humanoids that tell it what to do.
Tonight, I am looking forward to a sleep unaccompanied by lights and beeps and vague wonderings.
I think I’ll like it.