Sunday marks the end of Daylight Savings Time- that vain, collectively narcissisitic attempt by Congress to control time and daylight- so according to the gently hugging, overly maternalistic, government controlled news media we’re all supposed to set our clocks back one hour tonight before we put on our ‘jammies and go nighty night.
We here at oceandoggy.com say fuck that.
Don’t fritter your hour away and waste it sleeping. Hoard that hour, cling to it like a teen-agers first Playboy or a winos last sip. Be a rebel. Don’t set your clock back like the rest of the human cattle. Be different.
You’ve got 24 hours before Monday’s cold hard slap of meetings and schedules force you back into timely concurrence- take advantage of it and exert some control over your destiny. Relax. Leave time where it is for a little bit longer.
Then, on Sunday, when you and you alone decide you need a little more time or when you’re doing something you’d really like to have another hour doing or if you feel you’ve wasted an hour and want a do-over- that’s when you set your clocks back and enjoy your stolen hour.
You’ll still arrive bright and early on Monday morning chronologically insync with the rest of the planet but you’ll have bent time and the universe to YOUR schedule.
If only for an hour.
“I can only think of my quest, I’ve not been satisfied being merely a tone, I’m making the choice to venture off”– Josh Groban.
Thanks Joshie baby.
I too am on a quest.
A seemingly endless quest for a building permit and I’m not satisfied being merely a tone either. Whatever a tone is.
So anyway. I spent two days swimming uphill in both directions, battling The County on my quest, my journey. Yesterday, after work I hauled ass down to The County wanting to get the CAMA permit going ’cause I’d read it took a minimum of 18 days to clear and I’m starting to get really worried about the timeline.
I arrived panting and panicked in the CAMA office with my files and drawings and spilled them all over the very nice CAMA woman’s desk and the very nice CAMA woman took one look and pointed one of her perfectly trimmed and painted nails at the plan and said-
You don’t need a CAMA permit, she said.
I fist bumped her ’cause Miss Carol doesn’t like me to be kissing other women and ran out into the rain to get my Soil Disturbance Permit- which I’m gonna need because I’m going to be disturbing a LOT of soil building a house.
The County is funny like that.
I sprinted over the courthouse lawn high-steppin’ the sprinklers and curbs and ran into the Health Department, sluicing rainwater and breathing hard. I pressed my face up to the bullet proof glass and asked where the Water Conservation Department was.
And the nice lady said pointing to her left- right there but they’re both gone for the day.
Both? As in TWO? I asked? And no one else can help me get the Soil Disturbance permit that’ll lead to the Septic Permit, that’ll lead to the Well Permit, that’ll lead to the bright shiny Building Permit??
No, she said.
Come back maybe tomorrow she said.