Vampires, Readjust: Daylight Savings Time Wins Again

I experienced a bit of personal growth yesterday. Since it's the first time that's ever happened, I thought I'd share it with all 6.5 of my loyal readers.  (Ben, as a kU student, you only count as half. Go Mizzou!)

I digress.

As a youth, I harbored a lot of negative feelings toward Daylight Savings Time. Let's look at the fallout that occurs every time spring and fall worm their respective ways around the calendar:

1. I have to reset my alarm. I hate having to even acknowledge this particular torture device, much less deign to push its stupid, smug buttons.

2. I have to adjust to new levels of light and dark at new times of day and night. This goes against almost everything I believe. The thought of having to bend my will for the good of DST is maddening. My will bends to no man, except possibly Joss Whedon.

Growing up, I never quite understood why DST was so necessary.  Honestly, I still don't. I have this vague, mostly true (I think) notion that it's the farmers' fault.  This provided a lot of fuel for aggression since I grew up in Missouri Farmland Central, U.S.A.  Every spring morning I was mocked by their quiet contentment.  It was their fault that I was readjusting, once again, to a stupid, archaic sleeping schedule.  I didn't understand why I had to start waking up an hour earlier so they could hit the fields at the same time year 'round. And honestly, I still don't. Why don't just the farmers just wake up an hour earlier?  Don't drag me into your agricultural warfare.  I do my part.   eat your land's spoils.  Now let me nap.

(Disclaimer: Like I said, this notion is admittedly vague.  Regardless of the time of year, farmers are awake before noon, which is pretty much when I stumbled out of bed, so this could very well be extremely misguided angst.)

For years, I dreamed of a magical land where Daylight Savings Time didn't exist.  In high school, I learned that this land was called "Indiana."  It instantly lost all its magic.  But I still tried to fight DST.  For years, I refused to either spring forward or fall back, but to little or no avail.  As it turns out, Greenwich Mean Time is not determined by my $1.29 Walgreens alarm clock.  I'd had a hunch that this was true, but still.  The reality of the situation was unbearable.

But this year...not more than 36 hours ago...I had a change of heart.  I finally saw the value in this ridiculous practice. And I owe it all to my incredibly sadistic girlfriend.  I say "sadistic" because she wakes up to run every morning at 5:30, and through some stupid, unasked-for sense of duty, I've decided to take it upon myself to accompany her on these ungodly early runs.  Every morning by 6 am, we're out on the Chicago lakefront trail, yawning in the 20 degree lake winds.  It's cold.  It's early.  It's exhausting.
But the worst part of these early morning runs?  It's dark.  Really dark.  And you know what that means.

Vampires.

Seriously.  Vampires everywhere.  They love that trail at 6 am.  It's like their playground.  Literally.  There are playgrounds.  But with vampires.  The reason our morning jogs are so productive is that we spend more than half the time sprinting away from pale beasts with sharply fanged mouths.  (Pro: I've lost 20 pounds!)  But it's really frigging dangerous.

So this Monday, I strapped on my chain mail jogging suit and my vest with pockets for wooden stakes, and we set out on the path.  But here's the thing.  Daylight Savings Time ended on Sunday.  We fell back an hour in time!  The sun was up at 6 am on the lake!  The vampires were nowhere to be found!  We were saved!  True, the lack of motivation to run led us to call it a day at 6:03 and head back to the couch to eat chips and watch True Blood, but we were saved!

So now, finally, after 26 years, I can say with all my heart...thank you, farmers.  And please keep growing corn.  I love corn.