Fall Back and Hunker Down

I knew it was coming. It does—every single year. And this year is no exception: It’s November.

Out with the peak foliage and in with the bare branches. The leftover pickings of Halloween candy are on clearance (Does anyone out there really like Whoppers?) and overnight the aisles were magically transformed with tinsel and evergreens.

Around this time of year, I struggle to stay awake in the evenings. Maybe this is a curse of every early bird—our circadian rhythms dance to the beat of no clock. It’s 8:00 pm and I’m fighting to keep my eyes open until a more respectable hour. “Wait,” I think to myself. “Daylight savings time is coming. So then it will really be 9:00 at this time…no, that’s not right.” I’m 52 years old and I still have to whisper, “spring ahead, fall back” to myself. Also, “lefty loosey, righty tighty,” but I digress.

7:00 pm. When Daylight Savings Time takes effect tomorrow, my body is going to want to go to bed at 7:00 pm. I’ve tried talking some sense into my internal clock. “7:00 pm is when you are supposed to eat dinner, “ I say. “Or walk the dog. Or watch Jeopardy. It is most certainly NOT a reasonable bedtime unless you are under the age of five.” It’s to no avail. Despite the rational arguments, my body has her own agenda. When it’s dark and cold outside, 7pm seems like the perfect time to burrow under a cozy comforter.

You know, Halloween was originally a Celtic festival that marked the end of the summer harvest and the beginning of the winter season. That might be why my body is now squirreling away leftover Butterfingers. She’s getting ready to hibernate. She wants to slow down, rest, and embrace the quiet blanket of winter. As comfy as that sounds, and as much as I could get into wearing my pajamas 24-7, this season of nesting contradicts with the 43 holiday related tasks and social outings I’ve just added to my calendar. Ironic, isn’t it? Around the time my body prepares to hunker down, social media offers suggestions for “the 15 most festive places go ice skating.”

I plead with my body. “Come on, just wait until January, will ya?” That’s when the rest of the world embraces the dreariness of winter with their new year’s diets and dry Januaries. In January, we can root for a snow day together, an excuse to stock up and stay in, savor a stew, or snuggle by the fire. Not November!

As it is every year, my body and I come to a sort of compromise. I promise not to schedule too many evening festivities and she agrees to try to stay up past 9…at least on the weekends. And we both agree that ice skating is overrated anyway.

Did someone say snuggle with a blanket?


x

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