AN HOUR LOST IS NEVER REGAINED

 The recent damnable but inevitable clock change took me by surprise this time around. I had completely forgotten about it.

Fortunately, I was prepared. I refused to turn my clocks back an hour last fall - - so consequently I didn't have to turn them ahead this time.

Springing an hour ahead means that we lost an hour, doesn't it? Hell, if I subtracted all the precious hours I lost in my life (for one reason or another) I'd be timeless.
Ponder that for awhile. It might get profound.

I've been under such an enormous amount of stress lately (for endlessly complicated reasons that I won't go into) that I've been plagued with panic attacks and dizzy spells. Nothing new here. I've suffered from similar anxieties my entire life.

Last Friday morning, when I first got out of bed, I was seized by a combination dizzy spell and panic attack - which was compounded by the fact that I  didn't have my glasses or contact lenses, so I couldn't see a damn thing.

I unceremoniously crashed into a bookcase and everything came tumbling down: cheap Chinese vases, brass trinkets from India.....and, of course, books. A ton (or so it seemed) of dust-covered books that I hadn't read in years.

I was hit in the head with the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. 
Lying there dazed amongst the clutter, I decided that it could have been worse. I could have been clobbered by Ayn Rand or Dostoevsky.

Fortunately nothing was broken - - except my pride...and perhaps my will to live.
The three cats gathered 'round and looked surprised.

As if my poor excuse for a life wasn't tainted with enough problems, the almost-springlike weather has vanished and winter has returned with a vengeance. Howling winds, bitter cold, ice, and a semblance of snow.

I desperately needed to get to my mailbox this morning. The accumulating ice, frozen mud, impenetrable slush, and falling snow made it impossible to use the car.
So I walked. As usual. It was frigid and beyond miserable. By the time I crawled back up the mountain to my shack, I was nearly frozen and on the verge of passing out.

Safely (??) back inside, I suddenly realized that I couldn't feel my feet. I pried my muddy boots off carefully, hoping that a collection of frozen toes wouldn't tumble out.
They didn't.

In the muddled void of my shivering contemplation (whatever that means), I realized that losing an hour might not be a bad thing after all. It will bring me an hour closer to July, when hopefully the ice will thaw out.

A view this morning from my back porch.

P.S.

I'm way behind in reading blogs lately. But I'm thinking of you.