Several of the clocks in the house either have been adjusted or adjusted themselves overnight, reacting to the admonition that most U.S. residents’ clocks “spring forward.” Daylight saving time (DST) has a long, convoluted history—one insufficiently interesting to me to warrant exhaustive research into its evolution. That having been said, I explored enough to learn that Port Arthur, Ontario, Canada, was the first city in the world to enact DST, on 1 July 1908. DST was first implemented in the US with the Standard Time Act of 1918, a wartime (World War I) measure intended to add more daylight hours to conserve energy resources. DST and its companion, Standard Time, have been mucked with repeatedly on a global basis since then. That is more than enough for now; except for my suggestion that everyone who lives in areas impacted by the imposition of DST should adjust their clocks accordingly to avoid being late in meeting their various obligations.
+++
My sleep patterns continue to annoy me. Once again, I was in bed by around 8 last night. My energy behaves like artillery; a massive burst, followed by an eerie emptiness with only shrapnel left as evidence of its explosive power. That—explosive power—is a bit much. Actually, it is more like the force of an abrupt hiccup. But after the hiccup, only the deathly quiet shreds of a spent artillery shell. Is it odd that I would compare the oscillations in my level of energy to instruments of war? War is hell, smeared with insanity. I sometimes feel that my unpredictable levels of energy (or lack thereof), are hellish states in which to find myself. But when I give serious thought to what I imagine to be the horrors of war, I realize my circumstances do not merit even a single sigh. War is more than just insane; it is monumentally stupid. War-mongers should be disemboweled and hung—bleeding and in excruciating pain—from electric power transmission lines. I realize, of course, how harsh that scenario must seem to people who are unprepared for such repulsive images. Perhaps, though, if we could collectively view the atrocities of war through such scenes, we could collectively end war and the people who wage it by proxy, sending people off to die in pursuit of power. And thus ends my diatribe about my irritation with my sleep patterns.
+++
The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.
~ Leo Tolstoy ~
+++
If I can maintain at least the level of energy I feel at the moment, I will go to church in a while. An interesting video about the crucial importance of community engagement is to be shown; I want to see the entire thing. I hope my energy can last until the end of the film, at least.
+++
Another previously unscheduled visit to the oncologist tomorrow morning. This time will involve only a blood draw for labs. I gather some of the components of my blood have been too low or too high of late, prompting the oncology team, on Friday, to ask me to return on Monday. If nothing else, the trip into Hot Springs might provide me with the opportunity to stop at a donut shop, where I might get an extraordinarily tasty apple fritter or a jalapeño sausage wrapped in a soft dough. I suppose it would be too much to get both; but that would be a very nice reward for making the trip into town at an early hour—again.
+++
Mi novia made an extremely good, rich, filling turkey-noodle soup a couple of days ago. One-pot meals tend to be quite good. She knows how to pick them.
+++
I am anxious to get my PET scan; but it is scheduled for more than a week hence. I hope the results are good. If they are not, my oncologist and I will have to talk about next steps and a different approach. Worry does no good, but it sometimes is so intrusive as to be impossible to shed. Ach.
