Got back to the trailer last night after ten days away. Lovely M ran to the Humber with a Coopers, which he swapped me for my bags. The cats were affectionate in the “thank god you’re here” way that they are after they come back from the cattery – no matter how classy the establishment was (and let me tell you, this one was classy). The fire was lit. It was nice to be back in our own space, not withstanding the faux wood and faux brick.
Why am I a gherkin? I was convinced that we were going to have some muck up with our plane in Sydney because I had it in my head that daylight savings kicked in on 22 October. I am really not sure why. But nothing happened. However, last night I looked at my phone and then at the clock on the bookshelf and assumed M had changed the clock in anticipation of daylight savings. I whizzed into bed. It was late.
OH MY GOD it was good to get back in my own bed with my wonder-pillow. A lovely sleep. When I awoke, I reached for my phone to see what time it was. 8.59am. Woe. No time to stretch or snuggle – I strung it out for another 10 minutes and then headed for the shower. On the days I work from home, I like to shoot off an email to the office between nine and nine thirty to demonstrate my dedication.
At almost 20 past nine I’d sent off my cheery morning you-can’t-say-I’m-slacking-off-at-home email. There were groans from the bedroom a few minutes later. “What time is it?”
“About nine thirty.”
I was making porridge and tea when M stumbled from bed to bathroom. Back at my computer I stared at the time. It just confirmed another crap thing about my Mac – it couldn’t tell the time.
“Hey M, my laptop did it’s daylight saving thing two days early!”
I changed the settings to ‘manual’ and set the time back an hour. Looked up. Found M looking at me. He appeared perplexed – a not unusual state of affairs.
“I didn’t think I got up that late,’ he said, shaking his head.
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“No, it’s not.”
He began showing me his phone (CDMA phones get their time from…satellites? The ether? Somewhere.), the clock on the bookshelf. My brain began to melt. I thought he was tricking me. But no. It took me about ten minutes to realise that I’d replaced the battery in my phone last night at about 11pm. It then decided it was 12 o’clock on the first of January 2000. I woke up eight minutes and fifty nine seconds later and an hour or so ahead of normal time. Ohhhhh. I am so out of whack, and by the time I sort it out, it will be Sunday – when it’s actually supposed to happen.
Does anybody else wonder whether ‘2am, Sunday 29 August’ means either very late Saturday night or super early on Monday morning? Did I say my brain was melting? Is there an Idiot’s Guide to Daylight Saving in Victoria? Can I use any more question marks?