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Life is only what you wonder.

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

I Suppose Courtney Love Is My Fault Too

Whenever the time changes and we all spring forward or fall back by an hour, my mother has always flown into a confused indignation, usually directed personally at me, as if the whole thing were my idea.

You see, my mother has lived in Indiana for most of her life. In Indiana, people don't spring forward. They don't fall back. The only time a clock is set is when you bring it home fresh from the WalMart or when the electricity comes back on. Heck, as someone who lived the first 23 years of his life in the Hoosier state, I've gotta say the whole time-change thing baffled me when I first encountered it after moving to the big city.

But, see, I didn't blame anyone for it.

"So what time is it out there now?" my mother will ask in exasperation, as if enquiring about my latest shade of Manic Panic mall punk hair.

I will attempt to explain the time change.

"You know, Chris," she'll say with a sour sigh, "I really can't keep up with all this time change stuff you're doing."

At which point, I feel as if the whole concept of time in the world outside of Indiana is indeed somehow a huge imposition, and maybe it is all my fault.

I'll have my martyr complex with a side of rye toast, please.

This post is by Special Guest Blogger Chistopher.
Jimmy is currently on vacation and will return Wednesday, April 7th.