It's OK. I'll Sleep Later. When I'm Dead.

It's 9 o'clock on a Sunday morning, but for some reason feels like 8 AM. I'm fairly certain I have no one to blame except Benjamin Franklin and his not-so-forward thinking invention of Daylight Savings Time. If only he had stopped at the lightening rod and bifocals. He obviously never had to plan a conference call while sitting at a desk in Utah. For a caller in Boston. That will be calling people in India and Singapore. Sending the appointment on a Friday. For a meeting that will be held on a Tuesday. After Daylight Savings Time happens on that Sunday. But they pay me the Big Bucks to help people figure out stuff like that. Unfortunately, no one pays me Big Bucks to get out of bed on a Sunday morning, especially when church isn't until 1 PM.

However, if I sound overly cranky it has less to do with my confused body clock and more to do with the noises in my home. Right now, someone is vacuuming the family room. You heard me correctly. Someone is VACUUMING. You see, NO ONE vacuums unasked in this house. It only happens after they receive a threat of no friends, no television, no video games, or no FOOD. Usually the threat includes all the above before any manual vacuuming labor is actually performed.

Early (extra-early) on this particular Sunday morning, I have made no such threats - I'm not even out of bed yet.

And that begs the question: "Do I get out of bed and go see what kind of late Saturday night after-mom-and-dad-fell-asleep-from-exhaustion disaster someone is trying to cover up?"

Or is it simply best not to know?