The return of daylight saving time (not “savings”–it’s one of those often incorrectly pluralized things like “the book of Revelation” or “the Stanford Cardinal”) is always big cause for celebration around my house. Nobody gets up early enough to have to endure dead-of-night commutes, and everyone likes the longer, lighter evenings.

But–even if it’s just an hour–I get my body-clock screwed up every single March and October, unwillingly sticking out the old schedule for a week or two before I get adjusted to the change. I wonder if I’m alone in this, or if countless millions in productivity-dollars are being lost by giving, in effect, most of the Western world a one-hour case of jetlag every spring and fall.

Dylan’s home sick today with the flu. He’s sitting here in my office and just told me sadly, “I feel glommy.” I looked up “glommy” on WebMD: nothing. He also mused, “I wonder who invented the idea of barfing in the toilet.” Dylan is very into science and scientists lately, and seems to think barfing-in-the-toilet must have been a Nobel-worthy discovery. Genius!