When you become a fly fisherman ….you know, someone who does things, sees things …even thinks things, without thinking, it should be no surprise that losing an hour of time doesn’t become noticed until well after the hour is lost.
Trout can’t tell time: Oh sure, they know when it’s time to feed, when it’s safe to come out from under the bank or submerged log to intercept that vole or other larger than usual food opportunity, but they could care less of the time. It’s the urge to feed and the opportunity. It’s called being hungry.
The problem with Daylight Savings Time is that it puts you behind, even in the fall when you gain an hour. (You don’t actually gain an hour, it’s still there we just renamed it.) It’s like the retailer’s ad that touts the 50% you’re saving if you buy the item right now – which of course, is only true if you actually wanted or needed the item. If you didn’t, you lost money…I tried to explain that to “She Who Must Be Obeyed” once and, well, suffice it to say it was met with a look and me going on to do other things.
Today is Daylight Savings Time. Today we lost an hour …it’s still there, just not where it was yesterday. To Seamus, nothing changed. This morning he jumped up on the bed and began pawing me to wake up. His internal clock told him it was time to get me up so I would let him out and start the bacon. Had I turned the clock ahead the night before, I would have seen it was an hour later and should feel more rested because I slept an extra hour. Of course, being a fly fisherman, I didn’t change the clock the night before and, being a creature of habit – something Seamus figured out years ago – the usual routine began.
Eventually, “She Who Must Be Obeyed” forced me to get with the program by telling me to set my watch ahead – presumably so I wouldn’t be late for dinner …as though that happens.
THD