I have always loved the Saturday...

when Daylight Savings Time ends.  It's like the official beginning of Fall - and the bonus of that extra hour to do whatever you want.  Read for a little while longer before you go to sleep, watch a movie, stay up until two in the morning to change the clocks...  Seriously - when I was a kid my grandpa always stayed up until two to change all the clocks on the farm - like it was the law or something.  I was tempted this year, but I only made it until 1:30 - but then, it was actually only 12:30.  But I digress...  One of the best things about the end of DST, especially when I was a kid, was that coveted extra hour of sleep.  I come from a family of early risers; I am one as an adult, too - but when I was a kid, especially when I was a teenager, I would have given anything to sleep in on Saturdays, but that was never going to happen.  My dad would get up around five, make his first pot of coffee and enjoy the silence of the kitchen for about an hour.  He'd read, play with the cat or most of the time, I suspect, just ponder the nature of the universe - or whatever other computer geek thoughts he thought.  Then, around six, he'd head off to the shower and wake my mother.  And like most Southern households, when Mama is awake - everyone is awake.  During the school week I could understand getting up early - we had to leave the house with my dad because he dropped us off at school.  But on Saturdays - no rest for the wicked - or two kids who would have loved to sleep until at least eight - or even watch cartoons.  Nope - time to get up, get dressed and clean the house from top to bottom.  Never mind that I had dusted and polished all the furniture every day after school during the week or that I'd washed the entire kitchen every night after dinner, including washing the kitchen floor - Saturday was cleaning day and we were going to do our chores - because, you guessed it, when Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.  And then, once a year, came the day I lived for and with it, that extra hour's sleep.  And the fact that Mama couldn't do anything about it.  It was an untouchable hour of leisure and my slothful self enjoyed it every time it came around.  I still do.  Apparently, we never outgrow the need to defy our parents.  Or at least I haven't.

Did you make the most of your extra hour this year?