Dear Daylight Savings
As a Melbourne girl we were childhood sweethearts. But I should have known better than to go back to a relationship I’d walked away from once already.
Through my teens and twenties you gave me the freedom and the light to party on into the late evening without bumping into lamp posts or tripping over gutters.
I couldn’t picture ever being without you. Other states would tell me of your evil ways, how you messed with circadian rhythms twice a year and caused general chaos for shiftworkers.
But all I could see was how I felt when we drank jugs full of icy cold dry-and-dry together after work at Jimmy Watson’s on a summer’s day.
Then you starting encroaching on the rest of my year. A few months became a few more months – just a temporary measure for a major event – and soon you were taking over my spring and my autumn.
Daylight savings, I started to question your good intentions when you made me get up in the dark, cold October mornings and pestered me all the way through to the first chilly April mornings.
As often happens with romances like ours, we grew apart.
Life took me to Perth and the good people of Western Australia said NO, YOU MAY NOT COME. STAY IN VICTORIA, YOU SKANKY DAYLIGHT SAVINGS.
Throughout November I rolled my eyes as the WA sun woke me up in the wee hours of the morning. I scoffed at the joggers who took their run along the (spectacular) shoreline at 4.30am in the dawn light and cursed the coffee traders who encouraged them by serving silky lattes from 5.00am.
But by January I had seen the light. Daylight savings, you were just not good for me. Those Perth peeps had a point.
I was prepared to be woken up at 4.30am by the sun if it meant the worst of the hellish fire had been taken out of that gassy ball by the time 5.00pm rolled around and I rolled out of my nice, air-conditioned office. I didn’t want to bask in the burning the sun until 9pm. I just wanted it to GO AWAY.
I tried to explain this to the people back east but they just wouldn’t listen. The north-easterners understood. Their sun was equally unfriendly in the summer months. But my Melbourne friends and family still worshipped at your curtain-fading altars.
I was drawn back into your time-altering ways a few years ago. A move back to Melbourne and I was unable to resist the call back into your warm, sunlit arms.
And then I had children.
Daylight savings, you promised that the pain I suffered at the start of each annual cycle would fade quickly and be well rewarded come autumn. You promised that I would get at least a week of feeling like I had slept in. Every day.
Daylight savings, damn you, YOU LIED.
You changed the clocks but still my children rise at 5am. EVERY DAY.
They cannot tell the time, they cannot read your arbitrary, artificial clock. For a quarter of my young son’s life his time has been your time and he cannot so easily shed the shackles of your hourglass.
I won’t let it happen again.
Daylight savings, for the sake of my children and my own sanity, I am breaking up with you.
From an Angry, Sleep-Deprived Former Lover
Have your kids adjusted to non-daylight savings yet?
Or are you in a lucky non-daylight savings state?