It was bound to happen.
When my father was alive, he would telephone me whenever I needed to "spring forward" or "fall back." Because she knew Dad did this, my sister took up the tradition after his death.
Well, D., you called and left a message for me yesterday, but nowhere was there a mention of having to adjust my clocks. Instead, I spent the day in a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. In a middle ground between light and shadow. That's right: in The Twlight Zone.
Somehow, the stars aligned to deliver me a day in which I had no time commitments. I played hooky from church, decided against the flea market and treated myself to chocolate chip pancakes for my last day of vacation.
Then I scooped up Kerry Kennedy's "Being Catholic Now," which was overdue (my dad would not approve) and headed off for a walk to the library. (Church hooky + overdue Catholic book = ? I wonder.) There, I checked out the newest from one of my favorite -- and local -- authors, Diane Johnson, "Lulu in Marrakech."
I trotted on down to a bodega on Balboa and picked up some lemons to -- yes, how fitting, given the economic and newspaper situations -- make lemonade.
Arriving home, I spirited pup Lucy and the New York Times crossword out into the back yard. When the sun got too warm, I popped back inside and dove into "Lulu."
About 7:30 p.m., I surfed over to the blog "Rex Parker does the New York Times crossword puzzle" and saw his reminder of Daylight Saving Time.
Just then, my cell phone rang: my boss. "Hey -- when does Daylight Saving Time start, today?" I asked. "Uh, that was last night," he said.
So where was I all day?