Bill Gates Owes Me

Daylight savings time.  I did a Google search to find out who decided that it was in the best interest of everyone involved to rob me of an hour of sleep.  The first Google entry says Daylight Savings Time Help and Support Center.  I am not a pleasant person when I’ve been short-shrifted some sleep and I am going to be an absolute monster for the next two weeks until my body and my mind get on the same schedule.  I need all the help and support I can get.  I expected an advertisement for melatonin or one of those daylight alarm clocks that wakes you up by simulating the effect of sunrise.  (I’ve always wondered how a snooze button would work on one of those clocks.  Do you tap a button to create a ten-minute solar eclipse?) Instead of taking me to anything even remotely useful, the link was to a Microsoft Web page.  Really?  I type in “Daylight Savings Time” and Bill Gates is the first Google entry?  Wikipedia, you let me down.  And damn you Bill Gates!  As if that stupid talking paper clip isn’t enough, he’s now cornered the market on DST.  Is there anything that man doesn’t own?  Whoever said that you can’t buy time never met Bill Gates.  Okay, how much is it going to cost me to get my hour back?

If we’re going to spring forward tomorrow, as my first-grade teacher liked to say, I guess it’s also a good time to do some spring cleaning.  Dingo Girl and I had a fantastic walk in The Ramble this morning.  The Ramble is my favorite place in Central Park.  With thirty-eight acres of hills, streams, paths, trees, flowers, and wildlife, The Ramble is as far away from the city as you can get while still being in the city.  It is the Calgon of New York real estate.  Remarkably, although I was less than a five-minute walk from Broadway on the West side, not a single city sound interrupted this morning’s walk except for my heavy stalker-like breathing as I dragged myself up yet another hill.  I have gotten out of shape in the last year.  Wait, let me rephrase, it’s not that I’ve gotten out of shape as much as I’ve acquired a new one.  A rounder one.  That I wear over my old one.  Muscle and abs have turned to mush and ass.  In spite of my labored breathing, I came home refreshed and Dingo Girl came home tired — chasing squirrels is exhausting work!  It seemed like a good start to Spring.  I was determined that the brisk walk up and down the hills would kick-start a new exercise and eating program for me.  Not only do I want to be healthy and live to a ripe old age but, as an added incentive, Mr. Dingo and I are headed to Vegas at the end of May.  I want to be ready to sit by the pool at the Bellagio in the same pink and more pink string bikini I wore five years ago.  I could fit into it now but I would look like one of those pork loins wrapped with kitchen twine.  I would be stretching the limits of the spandex and I wouldn’t want to injure anyone standing near me if my pink bikini decided to blow. 

All the optimism came to a crushing halt after a trip to the grocery store.  Gummi Bears, Mike & Ikes, and Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies are not exactly low-fat fare.  But it was yummy.  Never, never shop on an empty stomach.  So tomorrow — tomorrow I say! — I start a healthy eating plan.  It can be done and I will be the one to do it!  After I finish the cookies.  And, yes, the gummi bears, the Mike & Ikes, the ribs….  Oh, did I mention that we had ribs for dinner?  Anyway, after everything else has been consumed, I will be ready for my new body.  Dear, dear, dear readers, it would not hurt my feelings in the least if you submitted my name to the people at Extreme Makeover.