Tuesday, March 18, 2014

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Daylight Savings Ruined My Love Life




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I’ve always hated daylight savings time. I’m kind of a sensitive sleeper, and throwing my schedule off by one hour can really jack me up for a month or more. I’ve signed many petitions to get it revoked. I don’t really care which time they pick); just pick one and leave it alone. But I don’t think it has ever bothered me like it did this year.

Here’s why.

Mel and I were in our living room the Saturday before the daylight savings switch. The kids were in bed.

Mel gave me the look. Mel has a lot of looks, so perhaps I should be more specific. She has a slant-eyed look that lets me know that I’m in serious trouble. She has a straight-lipped look that tells me when I’ve embarrassed her. She has a wide-eyed look that is accompanied by tight fists at her sides that tells me that I let her down. I don’t really enjoy those looks, honestly. But the look she gave me on the night of daylight savings was the raised eyebrows with a sly smile look. The one that says, “I want you.”

I don’t get this look nearly as often as I’d like, I don’t know if any husband and father does, so when it happens, I get a little giddy.

“Are you coming on to me?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mel said. “Yes. I. Am.”

I looked at the clock. It was about 9 PM. Or perhaps it was 10 PM. I didn’t know. So stupidly, I asked. “What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s 8PM,” Mel said. Then she gave me a furrowed brow look, one that said, “Can’t you read a clock?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “I can see that. But daylight savings time begins tomorrow and I can’t recall if this is the one where we lose and hour or gain an hour.”

“Oh! You’re right!” Mel said. “It’s summer time, so we lose an hour. I suppose technically, it’s 10PM. Wow. That’s really late for an appointment.” Mel always calls sex an appointment. It’s a euphemism of sorts. Somehow I think this makes us very Mormon. I don’t know if it’s because of the kids, or work, or school, perhaps it’s a bunch of things, but the fact is, we never have sex after 10PM anymore.  So the second Mel realized that we’d lost an hour, I knew that all bets were off.

“Man. That stinks,” Mel said. She went on about all the homework she had to get done, and a Sunday school lesson to plan. Then she talked about how we had church early in the morning and how we can never seem to get up early enough to make it on time, and now we were going to lose an hour. I heard the cancelation long before she spoke it. “I don’t think it’s going to happen. Stupid daylight savings time.”

I tried reasoning with her, “We still got time, babe.” I said, “We still have time!” I tried lying to her, “Oh… you know what. I was wrong. Daylight savings starts tomorrow.” But nothing worked. I watched my chances for lovin’ drift out of sight behind me.

Never in my life had I hated daylight savings time so much.

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Clint Edwards was blessed with a charming and spitfire wife, a video game obsessed little boy, and a snarky little girl in a Cinderella play dress. When Clint was 9-years-old his father left. With no example of fatherhood, he had to learn how to be a father and husband through trial and error. His essays on parenting and marriage have been featured in New York Times Motherlode, Huffington Post Parents, Huffington Post Weddings, and The Good Men Project. He lives in Oregon. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.
Photo by Lucinda Higley

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