The day after the time change. . .
I am not a big fan of the whole losing an hour thing. I insist to Sam that it is the worst day of the year.
I have since changed my opinion.
The Monday after the time change is definitely the worst day of the year.
Dragging out of that comfy bed early on the back to work day. Shaking the sleeping stone that pretends to be Jack, so he might wake up for Kindergarten this morning.
And trying to function. . . I need my coffee as an IV drip this morning. . . Is that possible?
I might have fooled my mind into thinking we went to bed at the same time last night. But, my body is screaming, no way! this morning.