My DST Discombobulation

I stared anxiously at the bus stop through the front kitchen window this morning, contemplating one simple thing: what the heck time is it?

For a solid five minutes, I debated with myself. Fall back, spring forward. Right? Wait, am I right?

I inspected the microwave and stove clocks. Both read nearly 9am.
(We lost power last week. Did I reset the time correctly?)

I studied my wristwatch. Analog shows almost 9am. Digital, 8am.
(Ah. This is where reading the instructions on synchronizing time would have been useful.)

I referenced the grandfather clock on the living room wall. 12:20. (Did I add AA batteries to the grocery list?)

I checked the Droid. (What am I talking about? I hate this phone. I can't trust this piece of crap.)

I continued to doubt myself until, finally, I saw little munchkins meandering toward the bus stop. Phew. Fall back. Definitely fall back.

I'm neurotic today because...
...I've become useless before my morning coffee.

Bah Humbug, Or Something Like That

I would like to post the following sign around my neighborhood:

Dear Sh!thead who dumped my entire bowl of candy into his pillow case on Halloween, please trick-or-treat at my house again next year. I have a surprise for you.

(It's not cursing if you use punctuation in place of letters.)

Maybe it was the afternoon I spent at John Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity (or Stephen Colbert's Rally to Keep Fear Alive, depending on which way you swing), but I've decided that I'm definitely pro-signage and/or homemade t-shirt. In fact, I'm thinking of carrying a few signs of my own, picketer-style, during trick-or-treat next year. Here are some of my ideas:

Promiscuous is not a costume.

Or, for the little ones:

Slow down, you greedy little bastard. The candy isn't going anywhere.

Before you yell at me for cursing (twice), just breathe. Of course I'm not talking about your kid. I'm sure your kid was smartly dressed and polite.

I'm neurotic today because...

...despite rallying with Team Sanity a day earlier, I nearly lost my marbles dealing with the hundred or so trick-or-treaters that bombarded my neighborhood. That is, until we found the house dishing out adult treats. Grand marnier, anyone?