*|MC:SUBJECT|*

Last week, we got hit with the double whammy of gaining an extra hour in which to eat leftover Halloween candy, that provided an extra hour in which to gain weight.

I am not a fan of Daylight Saving Time as I’ve written before. I get up and it’s dark. I close the office and it’s dark. Add to that the Sybil-like LA weather swings which mean I have a sweatshirt on in the morning, T-shirts in the afternoon and back to a sweatshirt shivering over hot cocoa at night.

I’m grumpy as hell. I’m hot, I’m cold, I miss the sun and my car and VCR clocks (shut up) will now be an hour off for six months.

I’m an Iowa girl, so I understand the need for DST (farmers need more daylight hours to harvest their crops before the first frost and we’d all die without food….blah blah blah). Forget the fact that this was created long before tractors had headlights….actually it was created long before tractors, but I digress.

I’ve never been one to suffer in silence, which means my staff is about to chip in and buy me one of those faux-light visors worn in Alaska used to battle depression when their pharmacies run out of Xanax (or when pharmacy is closed because the pharmacist called in sad).
I’m pretty sure they’re also googling cooling blankets and electric blankets. I may be paying them too much.

While LA can’t decide what season it is, Nashville, where my better half resides, is a city that is not at all confused. It’s appropriately cold now all day and night.

I love cool weather outside because, in theory, there are heaters inside.  Did I mention my better half is Canadian?  Which means a heater is all theory for her. If the cops dusted for fingerprints the “heat” button from her thermostat would have just a single print left by whatever poor sap wasted his time installing it.

Pet rocks had more of a purpose than her furnace.

She has the AC on all day every day and at night with the ceiling fans going so fast I worry one of her tiny 6 lb. dachshund pups will get sucked up into them and I won’t be able to help because my frozen hands will be wrapped and bound in the electric blanket she doesn’t know I have.

Me: Babe, can we turn the heat on for a few minutes?
Her: It’s on.
Me: I can see my breath.
Her: It’s at 67.
Me: Celsius?
Her: The fire is going.
Me: 67 isn’t heat unless you’re living in an igloo. Oh wait……

Add to that I want a cocktail at sunset (which is now around 3:00 in the afternoon) and there is still no way to reset a dog. Emmett is more confused and Eeyore-esque than ever. I’m pretty sure a collar beaming some fake light into his fury face is eminent.

I know I’m not alone when I say I want climb into bed right after work. The day has given up on us, so it’s reasonable to respond in kind. I was face-timing with one of my childhood besties who had called looking to catch up with an early evening chat.

Her: Whatcha doin?
Me: Lying in bed staring at the walls waiting to see if I’m going to have to climb under all my blankets or turn on my fan.
Her:  Why am I seeing all white?
Me: Phone’s lying on the pillow.
Her: Well pick it up!
Me: It’s too far away now.
Her:  Are you watching TV or reading a book or anything?
Me: No.
Her (after a long pause): Well, are you at least enjoying your coma?

I rolled over and used my nose to hang up on her.

It’s 4:00. Time for dinner.