I’m Pretty Sure I Won’t Be Springing Anywhere This Weekend

Spring forward, Fall back. Stupidest catch phrases to describe an entirely useless, and archaic to boot, system of time. I seem to remember hearing something about how Daylight Savings Time was to help farmers or train schedules or some such things in the 1800s, but I’m too lazy to Wikipedia it; and am happy to just settle on: this seems pointless in the 21st century. We have plenty of unnatural light to guide our travels; oil lanterns are a thing of the past.

Plus, it’s only an hour, for Christ’s sakes.

But still, all weekend and most of next week will be inundated with complaints about how springing forward is exhausting. The kids have to get up an hour early (technically) now and it’s going to be rough getting them to school those first few days. People will be showing up for church just in time for church to be ending for those who remembered to change their clocks. Pandemonium, right?

I even saw an article titled “Spring Forward Might Give You Diabetes” and it was all about how sleeping less than six hours a night for years at a time can contribute to a host of illnesses, including diabetes. Did I miss something? Spring Forward is just one day right? It may take a week or so to get used to, but it isn’t – like – every day for the rest of our lives, is it? We aren’t required to – say – lose an hour of sleep now forever, are we?

No. No we are not. Which leads me to my point:

When you lose an hour of sleep because of a horrifying nightmare, you don’t bitch about it do you? Maybe you do. Maybe that one hour less than your usual eight – just one time – does inspire you to complain; but chances are if you do no one really cares. But surely no one tells you that you’re going to now die of heart disease because of that one, restless night, right?

(Can we even call one hour less ‘restless,’ anyway?)

When you have to get up an hour early because of an early meeting at work, does it ruin your entire week? Does it inspire you to slug along day after day, posting eCards on Twitter and turning it into a national news story?

Have you ever posted this on your Facebook page?


No. Chances are you haven’t. You know why?

Because the majority of us are adults. That means that if we have a hard time getting to sleep; if we suffer from insomnia; if we are stressed about money; if the kid’s soccer game goes over in the evening and we get to bed late; if we travel in different time zones; if we stay up late watching the Punky Bruster Marathon on TBS; if we have an early meeting; if we have an early PTA or PTO or whatever-the-fuck-those-parent-organizations-are-called bake sale; if we have explosive shits from a poor food choice – we suck it up and deal.

So when it comes to Daylight Savings Time, I highly suggest you all do the same thing I do: ignore it. It may be useless, but who cares anyway? You’ve overslept before, for much less reason. You’ve lost an hour or more, for all kinds of things and probably for nothing at all too. It’ll happen again. And it will likely occur many more times than just the once a year that the Spring Forward does (and for many more hours than just one lost). Get over it.

Screw Yourself Sideways, Spring Cleaning

I’ve been spring cleaning for about a week.

At first it was as it always is – like a new boyfriend. I was excited. My heart a’fluttered at the thought of trashing some of the crap we have and never use. The first night I couldn’t even get to sleep – the wheels in my brain were just turning and turning and turning over all the things I wanted to do.

Now spring cleaning and I have reached a parting of ways. It’s been a week (so, also much like a new boyfriend). I’m tired of having headaches from all the dust allergens flying around. There’s stuff. Everywhere. And for some reason I can’t get rid of this nagging feeling that I got rid of something I shouldn’t have.

Or is it that I didn’t get rid of enough?

Day 1

My Husband will rue the day he married this de-cluttering queen.

6496_522876140413_4968011_nWhen my husband and I first moved in with each other, I learned how much of a hoarder he really was. Is. Will have to get over.

We were unpacking stuff and he opened this big crate and dumped out a bunch of wires. The first thing I should have picked up on was that we didn’t really need any wires for anything we were doing, he just wanted to sort through his wire collection.

Pause a moment. Wire collection.

I asked what they were for and he said “in case I ever need them.” He thought it was funny. By contrast, I thought it was horrifying so I popped Xanax after Xanax because I was beginning to realize what I had gotten myself into.

We have gotten rid of a total of three of my husband’s things in the entire time I have known him. A bedside fountain that didn’t work. An African-looking knick knack that had rusted and cut me more than twice. And a ripped pair of sheets. A few years ago, my husband was given hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of clothing by his parents for Christmas. He got rid of two t-shirts to “make room.”

When I started spring cleaning last week, I realized that I just could not take all of his clutter anymore. If he wasn’t going to get rid of it, in fairness he had to find a better place to store it than on the floor next to our bed, or in areas of the closet that should be for me. I am the woman in the house, aren’t I?

Our conversation went like this:

Me: “We have got to start de-cluttering this place, Nick. I have to be here all the time, unlike you – it is making me feel sick and unsettled to have so much crap around all the time. Plus, it’s like some of this stuff is just here for me to clean. I have never actually seen you play those two guitars sitting propped against the wall over there. And the amp and pedal board that sits next to our bed – not a once. Ever.”

Nick: [Look of panic] “I don’t know what you are talking about. I also don’t even know why you care that there is clutter all over the place. I let you put away the Lord of the Rings cup that I used to like having displayed. How much more do I have to give up?”

Me: [Ignoring the look of panic, as well as the blatant stupidity] “OK, well if that is how you are going to be, I’m just going to do it myself and you can deal with it…”

Nick: Fine.

Nick is right. He let me put away the Lord of the Rings cup. By “let” of course we are all of the understanding that he had no choice. I love the Lord of the Rings movies; The Hobbit was my favorite book growing up. But there is no room for Frodo Baggins in my home decor.

Day 2

The bedroom and the kitchen. I figured I would start at one end of the apartment and move my way out.

To start, I wanted to pack as much of my husband’s guitar equipment into his side of the closet. Of course to do this, I had to start going through his side of the closet and getting rid of crap. Papers. Wire collection. Pussy Master 3000.

Wait, what?

You heard me right, faithful blog followers. I found the drawer full of gag gifts. Some of them I do remember as gifts – possibly gag, possibly serious (I never know with some of my friends). Lubricants. Handcuffs. Things never used, of course. Then there was something my husband consistently insists was a gag gift, although the details of said gift have never been disclosed.

Pussy Master 3000. Lubricant included. As the packaging goes, it’s for the guy who is sick of just using lotion, but needs an artificial vagina for those lonely nights while the wife is away. Fortunately it was still in the bag.

I moved into the kitchen after the Pussy Master and did a little purging and organizing. Then it was time to call it a day.

Day 3

Can’t deal with this spring cleaning shit. Let’s go to the mall.

Day 4

Can’t deal with this spring cleaning shit. Let’s go to my dad’s and mooch food.

Day 5

Oh shit, how am I going to finish spring cleaning in time for the Super Bowl party?! Super Bowl party … Super Bowl party … Let’s shop all day to get stuff for the Super Bowl party.

Day 6

Got my period. There is shit everywhere in my house now. I haven’t dusted in over a week. There is some gelatenous goo forming on the kitchen floor. I need tampons. Better to go get those and hang out at my dad’s house. It’s nice and tidy there.

Day 7 – Today

Screw yourself sideways, spring cleaning. It’s now just a few days away from the Super Bowl and we’re packing about 16 people into our tiny apartment. There’s a bowl, books, stickers, an open package of graham crackers, and a broken Dora the Explorer talking backpack occasionally splurting out “back pack back pack” on the living room coffee table. On the kitchen table is a pile of cleaning supplies, another book, a party bag full of Super Bowl-themed party stuff, and a package of Puffs tissues. I didn’t even bother to put the boxes of kleenex around the house and the extras away. Better to just pull the kleenex directly out of the package, left half-opened on the table.

9401It’s time to get away from this spring cleaning nonsense. I need to just put away all this crap and move on with my life. I discovered a bruise on my leg this morning while getting ready. It probably got there from the hundreds of times I’ve run into all the shit lying around here over the past week of “spring cleaning;” nonetheless, it reminded me that I’m a princess and don’t like scrapes and bruises showing up on my delicate skin. Pussy Master 3000 and Frodo Baggins will have to be it for now. Until next spring…