Resetting the clocks. The computer. The toaster oven. The bedside alarm. The CD player. The phone, welcome anamoly, sets itself, thank you. Finding the manuals with the instructions detailing the manifold idiosyncracies. (Where are my reading glasses? Should I see an opthalmologist?) I got up at the usual time, though it was a metaphysical hour earlier and my get-off-your-lazy-ass internal voice had to accomodate this hour-sized augmentation of virtue, a leap forward in self-discipline, with barely a finger lifted. Just the way I like it. Fall back, critic.
Not only a new and arbitrary hour, a new season dawns, on schedule. Winter. The temptation to crank up the heat is irresistable. Dark skies don’t lighten and rain mutters finding its way around the obstacle of my dwelling.
Today’s quiz: 5 examples of what occur here?