In a perfect world, we wouldn’t have to worry about saving up our daylight like a paltry pile of pennies.
This isn’t a perfect world.
When I pulled my sad little stash of daylight from my savings jar last fall, I got an extra two hours of sleep ... by accident.
I blame it on my smartphone. “Smartphone,” I told it, “it’s your job to wake me up tomorrow morning without getting me an hour ahead of everyone.”
My phone didn’t say anything back. It’s not rude – it’s just shy.
So I tucked Smartphone in bed and sang it a lullaby. Once it was all cozied up with its charger, I went to sleep myself, reposing complete trust in Smartphone’s willingness to wake me up on time the next morning.
I should’ve known it’d play a prank on me.
“Teehee,” snickered Smartphone in a way only an electronic gadget can snicker (with an mp3 file). “Now’s my chance.”
And it promptly pretended I was in Chicago.
I spontaneously awoke the next morning at 5:38 a.m., according to Smartphone. Seriously. 5:38 on a Sunday morning is just too early. So I went back to sleep. And woke up again. And tried to sleep, but didn’t. If I ever see a flock of 3,208 sheep, I’ll find out what my poor brain was imagining that morning.
Eventually I gave up and moseyed my way into daylight, making sure to pull out a few rays to brighten up the morning. I thought it was unusually bright for what would have been 8 o’clock the previous morning.
And when I walked into church, I realized …
I’d managed to sleep and count sheep for an extra two hours. Not just one. Two.
I’d missed band practice on the day I was supposed to be playing bass.