Why? Why else.

Welcome to the first Monday of DST Disrupted Sleepy Time. I hate Daylight Savings Time like I hate the Designated Hitter. SO. MUCH. They’re both unnatural and neither accomplishes the purpose for which they were respectively designed. Unless you can show me a designated hitter with a 1.000 batting average, and a pitcher whose batting average is .000, the DH rule does not “fix” the problem it was designed to fix. No. You may not argue this point with me. Besides this post is about DST, the scourge of modern life. One of them, anyway.

The first Monday after we, like a bunch of lumpy-headed lemmings, turn our clocks ahead one hour is widely known as “Sleepy Monday.” In my house we experience the less widely known “Psychotic Sunday” the day before “Sleepy Monday,” and, boy, is it a hoot. Most of the day is spent by me giving voice to how badly DST is going to mess up my life for the foreseeable future, and overusing phrases like, “It’s science, bitches.”

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