I admit it.
I didn’t use the hour I was told I would “save” by setting my clock back over the weekend. I had every intention of spending that hour doing something useful but somehow those 60 free minutes got away from me.
I didn’t sleep an extra hour which I might have done in my younger years. I was up and out of bed at the same hour I usually rise had the clock not been reset. The sun was at the same position within a degree or two that it had been the morning before I switched the clock. True, this meant I was up before sunrise, but for the last few weeks the sun has not yet risen when I roll out of bed. So the morning seemed pretty much normal — except that now I had this extra hour.
I purposely did not turn on the TV. Well, yes, I did watch the weather forecast, but I do that every morning. Throughout the morning, all of the local newscasts repeat the full weather reports at least twice an hour in addition to three or four teases, so I calculated I was not spending any extra minutes learning what weather conditions I should anticipate. Even after I clicked off, the day seemed normal. And I still had this extra hour.
I suppose I could have earned an extra hour’s worth of money if I had a job. Had I planned ahead and applied at any one of the many businesses that are desperate for workers, I could have used that extra hour to earn fifteen extra dollars. Maybe more. But I chose to heat some water to make coffee instead. This is also part of my normal morning routine, so I was still one extra hour to the good.
I am a little surprised Becky and I didn’t think to have a larger, more complex breakfast meal than we normally would have eaten on a regular day, but no, she had her usual healthy breakfast and I had my usual second cup of coffee. Maybe later, when I did decided to eat something, I would spend some extra time on it.
Did I linger longer at the computer when I checked my inbox? Did I peruse the news more thoroughly, more completely that particular Sunday morning? No, I don’t think so. I did glance at the puzzles, but let them be. Becky and I would work them later, after church, just as we normally do.
I don’t know why I didn’t think to read or write or even play some music for my extra hour, but I did not do so and, before long, it was time to get ready for church. Becky and I chatted as we were getting dressed, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t talk longer than we normally do. I remember glancing at the clock as I threw on a coat and then grabbed the car keys — normal time to leave. The drive was uneventful and even though it was an autumn weekend when the traffic heading to Brown County can be a busy challenge, we arrived at church without delay. The service was not extra long and we were home at our usual time.
The rest of the afternoon and evening was relaxing but normal. Outside it was a little darker a little earlier than what we had been used to. It was time for bed when I realized I had not had an opportunity to spend my extra hour. “Maybe I could stay up an extra hour,” I thought. But we both started getting drowsy at our normal time.
“I’ll try to spend my extra hour tomorrow,” I thought as I drifted off to sleep.