I have a fantasy that recurs twice a year, every time I find myself obliged to fuck around with clocks that don't get automatically adjusted to account for the beginning and end of daylight savings time. I imagine simply refusing to do so. I imagine not having any clocks (or computers) at all. If I need to measure the passage of time in increments of fifteen, thirty, or sixty minutes then an hourglass would suffice. If I cared about the time of day, I might look outside and observe from the length and direction of shadows whether it is morning or afternoon.
This is ultimately a fantasy of privilege in which I conflate freedom with being almost entirely disenaged from society. If I did not have to work for a living, or keep appointments, then I would not need a more precise instrument, let alone care how others set their clocks. One could argue that this is a profoundly asocial fantasy, though I would protest if it were characterized as antisocial because I am not fantasizing about harming others.
I am, nevertheless, tired of seeing clock time jump forward an hour in spring and then revert in the autumn. I do not think I should feel obligated to alter my sleep patterns because of an act of Congress passed a century ago. It is yet another violation of bodily autonomy on the part of the state, albeit not nearly as egregious a violation as Republican efforts to impose de facto abortion bans with onerous restrictions. I do not see why I should feel obliged to honor Daylight Savings Time. What care I that children might have to walk to school in the dark? I used to ride a bike home from school in the dark, and I did just fine. Children who fear the dark should not be coddled, after all, but forced to face the darkness without so they might accept the darkness within them.
Philosophical musings aside, I am tempted to keep a battery-powered analog clock with a bell alarm, which I already possess, on my nightstand. I would keep it set to Eastern Standard Time regardless of whether Daylight Savings Time is in effect, so that seven o'clock is always seven o'clock in my bedroom, even if under DST it might actually be six o'clock. I am also tempted to replace my Apple Watch with a Casio or Timex watch, and also keep it on EST year-round.
Whether this strikes you as a mere eccentricity or a particularly ineffectual act of civil disobedience is of no consequence to me. I probably won't do it while I remain married and am still obliged to work for a living. But if I find myself a retired widower and Daylight Savings Time has still not been abolished, I may refuse to participate out of the sheer orneriness that been the privilege of the elderly since Utnapishtim told Gilgamesh to get off his lawn and Circe demonstrated to Odysseus that most men are, in fact, pigs.
Lest you think it is as impractical to reject Daylight Savings Time in my house as it might be eccentric, consider my cats. They have no idea that their feeding schedule has been altered because of the seasonal clock time changes. All they know is that they didn't get fed on time. And since my cats are unionized, they showed up en masse to present their demands. Rejecting DST at home would not only ensure a consistent sleep schedule for me, but a consistent feeding schedule for Smudge and Purrseus — and fewer demands from the Alley Cat Union.