But I do care about time

My flight from Florida left at 5:55 am. Which seemed reasonable when I booked it. After all I rise at 5:30 during the weekday. I forgot about the time change. As I was walking down the street one day...

I was finally packed and ready to crawl into bed at 1:00 am, but had to spring forward my clock so that I could get in the right time zone in order to get to the airport on time. I got up at 4:10 and left the house at 4:30 which meant I got a total of three hours of sleep. My seat mate on the plane lamented the fact that he had forgotten about the time change. I asked him, "Does anybody know what time it is?"

The first leg of my journey to Indiana for my Aunt's funeral stopped in Chicago where I had a two hour layover. We landed at 8:25 am by my watch sprung forward, but Chicago is an hour behind Florida, thus it was only 7:25 am. My next flight left at 9:45 am Chicago time for an hour flight to Indianapolis, but Indy is an hour ahead of Chicago and so I would arrive at 11:49 am. Which was 10:49 am yesterday. Does anybody really care about time?

What it really meant when I sat down to mull it all over was that I got very little sleep, jumped in and out of time zones, and still managed to find my way despite the confusion. Though I can't imagine why (oh no)...

Everywhere I went people were commenting on the time change and the forgetfulness of the time change and all of it made me think of Chicago's (the group not the city) song about time. Because we all have time enough to cry (or die)...

And it all just seemed fitting.