As if I thought the year could not get any weirder, the month of March has proven me wrong.
I’m currently sitting on my couch with a glass of kombucha I’ve been working my way through for the past 3 hours, glancing out the window every few minutes at the steady fall of snow gently coating car roofs and asphalt. I have about twenty minutes before I leave to go teach, twenty minutes in which I hope to finish this tea and find a clean sweatshirt dug out of the bottom of my closet.
I don’t understand how anyone – least of all a uni student living on her own in a bubble of social narcissism – can be expected to remember such occurrences as Daylight Savings.
Just, what? No.
So of course I woke up at close to 11am after having set an alarm for 9:30, and am still recovering from the disorientation of having had an entire hour taken away from me. It’s a good mental justification for not being able to wanting to get work done. Like, that hour could have been spent writing one of the fourteen hundred papers I have due in a week, but, alas, no longer.
Guess I don’t have time for anything save for lying on the couch and writing this entry.