Oh precious hour, where did you go?

Daylight Savings Time has come around again, confusing my already addled brain. Lunchtime, really? That's funny, it doesn't feel like lunchtime.

And I'm the sort of person who often doesn't even know what month it is, so if the time change throws me off, I can't imagine what it must be like for the types of people who are on a more regular schedule.

The truth is, losing an hour is no big deal for me. I'm used to it.

It happens to me every single evening, after all the kids are in bed. I look at the clock and it is 9:00. A second later, I glance over again and it is 10:00. Sometimes the lost hour occurs between 9:30 and 10:30, or even 10 and 11. But without fail, it always disappears.

I swear, this happens every night. You can ask my husband. That lost hour always takes us both by surprise. "How did it get so late?" one of us will say. "It was just 8:30 a minute ago."

I think every so often we should declare one catch-up day to make up for all the hours that somehow slipped away. Of course, I also think we should switch to a four-day work week, antibacterial hand soap should be outlawed, and people should generally be nicer to each other.

But, I'd settle for getting my nightly lost hour back.