Every year I take upon the great task of educating the masses about how ridiculous, useless and just generally annoying daylight savings time is. And every year I can never seem to shout loud enough over the chorus of people singing “but an extra hour of daylight!”
Come on people. Just come on. Do you really think that when the nation pads around their house changing their clocks every spring that it somehow affects the Earth’s rotation around the sun? A giant collective can certainly achieve some impressive things, but that’s not one of them.
There’s still the same amount of daylight. It’s science.
Now, here’s my week. Back when my internal clock wasn’t completely shattered.
I’ve been inexplicably obsessed with finding a suitable pair of sunglasses for the baby. I was finally successful.
We woke up to about 7 inches of snow. I’m not supposed to shovel, but I got impatient waiting for someone else to do it so I did it anyway. It’s okay, I don’t actually want feeling back in my left hand anyway.
My cousin went into labor so I was pretty much useless all day while I checked Facebook every five minutes to see if the baby was here yet. He made it with a ridiculous head of hair and super chubby cheeks. Now I sort of miss having a newborn. I smell trouble.
This was the day I decided I don’t care what my kid wears. It started innocently enough with me trying to find a nice outfit for him to wear for his pictures the next day, and it ended up with about four puke-stained outfits (not including mine), a broken dresser and a completely agitated baby. He wore stretchy pants and a sweatshirt. If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for him.
So, it was picture day. Wyatt was dressed in his finest sweatsuit. We wheeled him up to the Sears portrait studio. I had my coupon for a free picture in hand. Wyatt was happy and smiling. This was going to be good. And then we waited. And waited. And waited. When they finally took us back Wyatt was over it. And so was I. So we have no pictures. But I know a whole hell of a lot about Senequa’s disdain for her job. I now realize why people gut their bank accounts for real professional photos of their kids.
I’ve added a new place I never want to go to again on a Saturday afternoon: Trader Joe’s. I made sure to buy a bunch of $3 bottles of wine to help ease the pain. No, you have a drinking problem.
So listen. I know I said I was going to do this clean eating thing. And I am. I totally am. But I found this recipe for Oreos baked inside brownie cakes. I mean, come on. They were dirty and delicious.
How was your week?