Good news — another hour has just been added to every 24-hour day (don’t ask us how. We have powers). How do you use those extra sixty minutes?
It’s thirteen o’clock! Do you know where your children are?
Yikes. I have enough trouble dealing with the 24 hours we are alloted now. I don’t want an extra hour. Would I be expected to work longer? To do an extra load of laundry while I clean the bathrooms? To add an hour of exercise?
Maybe I could just sleep it away, this pesky extra hour. But I find that I need less sleep as I grow older, and am no longer comfortable being in bed for ten hours. Seven or eight is a luxury.
Would I write that extra hour away? I don’t know. Watch TV? Take a walk?
I know I don’t want it. My days flow comfortably just as they are, and I don’t want anyone messing with my clock, biological, circadian, or otherwise. Who’s going to inform the sun that it has an extra hour to play around with? What will we do about daylight time, which we tend to tinker with plenty as it is? Will the moon be ok with all this? How about the birds and crickets and frogs? Will they have an extra hour to tweet and crick and croak? Will they be ok with that? Won’t it mess up their centuries’ long instincts?
How about the tides of the oceans? Hoo boy. I can foresee all kinds of difficulties there. And the sunrise/sunset tables are all going to have to be refigured, as well as the phases of the moon.
You know what? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Pardon my grammar.