by Peggy Robin
Well, here we go again, doing the old clock switch-back thing, that semi-annual ritual that has the support of a mere twelve percent of the US population. Given that figure, it's hard to understand why we keep doing it.
No, I take that back: I get it. Given the current state of affairs -- over a month into a government shutdown that absolutely everyone claims to hate, including the politicians who caused it -- it's become clearer than ever that what the majority of the people want is not that closely correlated to what they get. So why should our desire to do away with this time-switcheroo be any different?
Anyway, it's not as much trouble as it used to be, now that so many of our time-keeping devices are chip-enabled and thus programmed to reset themselves automatically.
At this time of year we regain the hour of sleep we lost in the spring, making this seasonal time-change less onerous than its vernal counterpart.
Of course, try telling that to your dog or your toddler on a fixed nap schedule -- or your neighbor's rooster, if you live in the country.
In the past, there were glimmers of hope, in the form of a bill that advanced in Congress, making us think we were about to suffer through the clock-resetting just one last time. This year, I"ve become resigned to the idea that Congress will not come to our rescue. They can't even keep our country up and running and get food to the people who would go hungry without the program they authorized and funded.
So now all I ask of them is to come back and do, oh, the kinds of things the Constitution tells them is in their job descripton. Y'know, like pass a budget, or at very least, authorize payment of the air traffic controllers and other essential workers, so we can keep the planes flying. Or maybe put a halt to the wholesale destruction of entire cabinet departments and agencies established by Congressional action. Or stop the President from starting wars in defiance of the War Powers Act. Or stop him from using the military domestically, against the residents of our own cities.
Congress, if you will just get off your collective duff and get started on these things, I promise to stop whining* about this twice-yearly clock-up .
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* I've done SIX previous columns gnawing on this particular bone. My most recent one, last sping, has links to the five previous columns -- in case you really want to keep going down the same rabbit-hole.
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Still Life with Robin is published on the Cleveland Park Listserv and on All Life Is Local on Saturdays.
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