Last night we continued the ridiculous tradition of setting clocks back when we should leave the damn things alone. Still, I feel better for having an extra hour impossibly inserted the night. I'll pay for it next spring, but would rather not dwell on that this morning.

Instead, I'm feeling how that extra hour provided a little relief, something in short supply. There's a global pandemic raging (if you hadn't noticed). There's politics, work, and life at home. There are friends for whom I can't make enough time and friends who never call. There are people who depend on me even as I feel drained and wonder who will care for me.

One hour doesn't fix all that, but I feel at least one hour better. The Syracuse sky is blue and that's no small miracle in early November. Blue sky won't fix everything either, but blessings leads to blessings if I choose to walk the right path.

Today is a twenty-five hour day, but I won't be 4.167% more productive. I'm trying to be unproductive and instead notice things like blue sky, an extra hour, my own breathing, and how words come out of my fingers onto the page and screen. I'm taking an extra hour just to notice that when I wish, more often than not the universe showers me with just what I need.

Enjoy the extra hour.