Certain tirades of mine are seasonal. Twice a year, when daylight savings time kicks in, I set up some poor undeserving coworker or friend with my usual lead: "What exactly is daylight savings time for?"
It helps that no one actually knows the answer to this question. Most will mumble something about farmers. The fools.
"Oh yeah?" says I, I says, "Every single farmer that I've ever known gets up with the sun and goes to bed with the sun, regardless of what the clock says. So why the hell do they need daylights savings time?"
Hawaii doesn't do daylight savings time. We're so close to the equator that there really isn't much difference between summer and winter in terms of daylight. Maybe an hour difference, if that. So half the year Hawaii is six hours behind Brooklyn, and the other half of the year it's five hours behind. I remember it really used to mess with my TV viewing. They were always switching what time my stories came on!
So twice a year I bitched about daylight savings time. My script didn't change. It was like Dick Clark's New Years special.
Daylight savings time was on Sunday. We had to move all the clocks an hour forward, so it was a little hard for me to get up this morning (compounded by my nightmare about Mr. Spock turning into a crazed ape-man and trying to punch through the windows of my car while I honked the horn to summon the rest of the away team--G-d, I'm such a massive nerd). But after work this evening, I went grocery shopping and kept thinking to myself, "It's so light out. The sun is still up. What madness is this?" Self replied, "Daylight savings time, moppet [that's what we call ourselves in here]. You get an extra hour of sunlight in the evening because you got up an hour earlier."
The flash of insight was as bright as the sun on Atlantic Avenue. I get it now. All us 9-to-5ers get extra daylight for afternoon activities and I don't have to schlep the groceries home in the dark. Thanks, daylight savings time!
Seriously though, it has nothing to do with the damn farmers. See above.