And now for the big news – Sunday is Daylight Savings Time.
I don’t really reserve such an introduction for the trouble of setting back – or ahead – at six-month occurrences.
At least Sunday’s time change is the lesser of the two routine pains – it sets the time back an hour.
Next Spring’s time change where you lose an hour gets me going.
People like your’s truly have been griping about these time shifts for years.
And, like almost all things that people complain about, nothing changes.
I say that because every so often some politician will try to get the ball rolling to leave things alone.
That belongs in the same category as that Greek guy who pushes the boulder up a hill, but never gets there.
Seems like this stuff started to get more time for important stuff, like having time to play with the kids.
When my boys were young, we played outside in the dark as well as the day until we were all called inside to eat.
My oldest, he’s 47, used to have epic basketball games in the front drive and I suppose the time change may have allowed that.
Then both boys and I played a form of keep away that was never fair because the two of them conspired to always keep the ball from me.
That was more fun than the later game of saying things just out of my hearing range to drive me crazy.
My lack of hearing is legend.
Well, last Saturday was something of a happy Aggie sports day.
My fall – and that of thousands of Aggies – is one of unsustainable hope of great A&M football that generally plays out in early October.
And the best we can hope for is a mixture of so-so offense and good defense, or some combination of the two that never materializes into a championship.
The Aggies beat LSU Saturday, a most satisfying development in the battle between those two schools.
While Texas is the legendary Aggie football foe, we’ve played LSU going back into the 19th Century.
Anyway, we won doing well on both offense and defense, although it didn’t look that way in the first half.
I think MaLinda and Jessica actually prefer this state of happiness for me.
They’ve had to endure the long, tortured bouts of frustration and yelling at the television that never has reached the Kyle Field playing surface.
I’m happy, the girls are happy, and the dogs aren’t having to hide from maroon and white tantrums – hopefully for the foreseeable future.
