I woke up this morning, looked at the clock, and then realized with a bright surge of delight that we had “fallen back” an hour overnight. So I rolled over and enjoyed a pleasant doze and some rambling dreams to commemorate the occasion.
After getting up, I made a fine cup of coffee and continued the celebration by walking around the house, changing the settings on all of the clocks that aren’t “smart” — which means pretty much every clock in our house except the ones on our cellphones and the computer — and relished rolling them back an hour. I punched the new time into the clock on the microwave, and rewound the old-fashioned art deco clocks at our bedsides. It’s all part of the ritual, as important to the proper observance of the time change as any aspect of any religious service. Some people recite the Rosary, some people sing the Doxology, I happily engage in the Liturgy of the Extra Hour.
Because getting an extra hour on a Sunday that dawns bright and crisp and clear and full of possibilities is truly a cause of rejoicing.