Tonight we turn our clocks back, and the general consensus is that everyone should enjoy an extra hour of sleep. While true when I was in college, it hasn’t quite been the blessing ever since. When I was in medical school we would scan the “on call” schedule and pray that it was not our turn on the “fall back” Saturday. If you were on call, you actually had to work all 25 hours and you could rarely sleep through that blessed extra hour. And it was not because I was such a bean counter, it was just that the extra hour potentially meant an extra hour of pure terror, with beepers going up, emergency room admissions and cardiac arrests. When I segued to a mother with young children the extra hour just meant that the kids woke up earlier, and instead of running out of things to do by 10 AM, now it was only 9 AM. Now I mostly just get up with the sun, so the extra hour means that I am typically just kicking around waiting for everyone else to catch up to me.
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