Every year it happens.
Some bureaucratic wizard somewhere in Washington waves a magic wand, steals an hour of my life, and suddenly I’m wandering around my house like a raccoon that just woke up inside a Home Depot.
Daylight Saving Time hit last night and I am absolutely, profoundly, chemically confused.
My body thinks it’s 1978.
My stomach thinks it’s lunchtime.
My coffee maker thinks I’ve developed a drinking problem.
And the dog? The dog is staring at me like I’m the idiot who forgot how clocks work.
The worst part is I woke up this morning feeling like I accidentally ate three edibles and then got lost in a Costco. My brain is slow, my eyes are blurry, and I’m standing in the kitchen holding a spoon wondering why I walked in there in the first place.
Normally, this would be the part of the day where I say, “You know what would fix this? A little weed.”
But not today.
Today I’m already operating on the mental equivalent of a strong hybrid. My internal chemistry lab has been hijacked by the Department of Time Adjustment and they’ve apparently decided the correct dosage is “confused raccoon with a hint of jet lag.”
I don’t need cannabis today.
I’m naturally stoned.
I tried to read the news this morning and halfway through an article I forgot what the first paragraph was about. I poured coffee into the dog’s bowl. I checked my phone three times to see what day it is.
It’s Sunday, allegedly.
But my brain insists it’s either Saturday night or the third Tuesday of October.
The wildest part is this whole ritual exists because, historically speaking, someone once thought farmers needed more sunlight or something. Which is funny because every farmer I’ve ever met wakes up at 4:30 AM and doesn’t give a damn what the clock says.
Meanwhile the rest of us are staggering around the house like we just came back from a weekend in Vegas.
The government didn’t just change the clocks.
They changed reality.
And now half the country is tired, confused, and standing in front of the refrigerator wondering why there’s a spoon in their hand.
So no, I won’t be smoking today.
I’m already experiencing the powerful psychoactive effects of Standardized Federal Time Manipulation™.
Side effects include:
- forgetting what you were doing
- questioning the meaning of mornings
- eating lunch at 9:45 AM
- and accidentally microwaving your coffee twice
Honestly, if the cannabis industry could bottle whatever Daylight Saving Time does to the human brain, they’d be billionaires by Thursday.
Until then, I’ll just sit here, drink my third cup of coffee, and wait for my nervous system to figure out what the hell just happened.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be on the couch… adjusting to the time change like a responsible adult.
Which is to say:
poorly. 😵💫☕🌞
Keep it weird,
