The lost hour

My husband decided, without checking any definitive source, that last night was the night we turn our clocks back an hour. So he did.

We went to bed at our regular time, looking forward to an extra hour of sleep and to waking to daylight instead of darkness.

This morning, while I was enjoying my cappucino and reading to my son, my husband discovered Daylight Savings Time doesn't end until next Sunday. Unbeknownst to me, he began changing the numerous clocks throughout the house ahead an hour.

I checked the pendulum clock in the hallway and still had plenty of time before breakfast. So my son and I finished the book we were reading. Entering the kitchen, I glanced at the clock on the microwave. How'd that happen? I wondered, stepping up the pace to cooking breakfast.

Sitting down to hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, toast and apples, I glanced at the clock above the sink in the kitchen. I was confused by the hour I had just regained.

"I haven't gotten to that one," my husband explained.