“Fool me twice,…OK, I’ve been shamed!”

Sunday was our Stake Conference. The session didn’t start until 10 am but I had an early morning meeting to get to. I was to meet at the church at 7:30 am so the stake presidency could drive together to the Central Point Stake Center. The meeting would be with the other stake's leaders where we were to be taught more about our missionary responsibilities.

I awoke with plenty of time. According to the clock it was only 6 am so I laid in bed for several minutes thinking about what I would do prior to the meeting. I’d get up, shower, other stuff, and, since I probably wouldn’t be home until around 2 that afternoon, I thought a good hearty stack of pancakes would help tide me over quite nicely.

As I talked a little with Jan about the upcoming conference session I noticed the blinds in the bedroom seemed to have some light coming in behind them. Light? There shouldn’t be any light. I looked at the clock again. 6:15 am. Just the day before I had been out jogging around 6:45 am and there was no light. I began to panic. Oh no! It’s déjà vu all over again! I remembered a year ago getting up, taking my time to get to a meeting then discovering that modern technology hadn’t listened to or cared much about the act of Congress that set the switch to standard from daylight savings time a week later.

Our alarm clocks were set to automatically switch to standard time each fall then back to daylight savings time in the spring. Trouble is that I don’t remember that these clocks do this all on their own without consulting us.

I jumped out of bed and ran to the front door to get the paper. The sun was beginning to rise behind Roxy Ann. I quickly began checking all the other clocks in the house. They all read 7:15 am. Nothing gets the blood that’s settled in your back side flowing like realizing you not only are not going to get your pancakes, you only have 15 minutes to get ready for a church meeting.

I ran down the hall, stopping at the hall closet to grab a couple of towels. Even in a panic I was still thinking of my wife. (The extra towel was for her.) I fumbled for the shaving cream and then hastily applied the foam to my face. Gasping for air I discovered I’d covered both nostrils with the shaving cream. Poking holes with my finger where I thought the nose should be I guided my triple bladed razor over my face just like a Ferrari takes to the winding roads of the Italian Alps. I went so fast that I’d thought I’d shaved my eye off but realized it was just soap that caused the eye to sting and not an amputation.

At this point my drowsy little wife asked what was going on. My staccato reply as I sprinted into the shower went something like: “Clocks-fall-back-too-soon!AHHHHH!!!”

With water pouring from the shower head I jumped in and began to sling soap as quickly as I could. I was going fast! I was amazed at how quickly this was going even if there is more to me to hose off than in years past. The lack of hair makes the shampooing quicker and shortens up the difference I suppose. Grabbing for the towel I accidently dumped the towel for my wife into the garbage, (sorry Jan). Semi dry and totally stressed I combed the hair (singular) and began putting on my clothes as if I was a fireman getting dressed while the third alarm sounded.

I didn’t know if the shoes matched or if the tie was on backwards but I was flyin’! Racing out the door I prayed the car that hadn’t been driven in two months would get me to the church on time. It started so I backed up and I was off. I kept glancing at my watch. President Woodley wanted to leave by 7:40 and I was pushing time like never before. Screeching into the parking lot the Woodley van was running with the back up lights on. I leapt from the car and flung the van door open with such power it about knocked my teeth out.

Time on the van clock? 7:41!

I wondered why I couldn’t get ready this fast all the time. It was quite the rush. This sudden surge of adrenaline power was greater than any triple mocha espresso could ever give. I had discovered a new power aid…it’s called late.