It’s that time of year. The time when we move our clocks forward a full hour as if we have so much extra time that we don’t need that hour. Honestly, it’s not so much the hour that is bypassed as it is the effect in the mornings that follow.

You see, I am already experiencing mourning funk. I mean morning funk. Or do I?

While it is indeed true that I cannot seem to drag my butt out of bed in the morning, I know that the lack of sunny light is not the only reason. There are days when I am wide awake and, with coffee in hand, I still retreat back to the warmth of my bed and contemplate staying there. That’s before the time change. Lord only knows what I’ll be like after my clocks spring forward. [sigh]

It’s not just me. Down the hall, the boys seem to be going through a similar struggle. Although YaYa has always had difficulty waking up, BoBo generally makes time for the gym a few times during the workweek. This past month, it has only been once or twice a week. I’m not judging; I haven’t made it to the gym in over a week myself. In fact, I’ve been struggling just to make it to the yoga studio.

The corner of my yoga mat is visible from my bed. I know that it will be there for me if I don’t make it to the yoga studio. Without judgment or question, my mat is there. It just sits there waiting — until eventually I get out of bed and step foot on it. Or maybe I make it to the yoga studio after all.

Anyhow, when I think about the time change, I think that it maybe it isn’t all bad to care about the lost hour. Maybe it’s better than to not caring at all — even if others judge me and tell me that I am “getting hung up” about the return of dark mornings. It is what it is.