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After Dark

mood: dragging | drinking: plain old water


Daylight Savings Time can kiss my ass.

I don’t like it. I’m not a fan of it. I really would rather not.

Already I feel that time moves too quickly, whooshing by me like a soft-footed thief. When the workday ends, there is barely enough dusk lighting the parking lot for me to make out the color of my car.

By the time I’ve joined the queue of halogens buzzing down the pavement, all vestiges of daylight have disappeared.

Getting home after dark is demoralizing. It underscores just how little you have left of your day after selling your best hours to the man for just enough digits to put a roof over your head and food in your belly (and your dog’s) and gas in your tank. (And, yes, pretty shoes on your feet and fascinating books on your shelves.)

I’ve begun to feel old, in the last couple of years. And I’m sure that sentence has my elders laughing and laughing. But really, this is the oldest I’ve ever been, and the numbers are really beginning to show signs of wear.

So I wish it would all just slow down, slow waaaaaaaaaaay down.
I want to hover here in the moment before it becomes a memory.
I want to savor the feelings while they’re still warm.
I want to bask in the colors while they remain vibrant.
I want to stay a bit longer in the light.

-Lo, who thinks it’s quite possible that creaky begets cranky.

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