I have reached a point in life where I genuinely don't care what time it is.

I just want everyone to agree on one.

Every spring and every fall, we all pretend we're surprised.

"Oh, don't forget to change your clocks!"

As if we haven't been doing this twice a year since before color television.

Then, for approximately 72 hours, the entire country becomes exhausted, confused, and irrationally emotional.

People are late for church.
Kids wake up at 5 a.m.
Dogs demand breakfast an hour early and refuse to accept that Congress has jurisdiction over dinner.

My microwave still thinks it's March.

And yet, somehow, this has become one of the most passionately debated issues in America.

Forget politics.
Forget sports.
Forget pineapple on pizza.

Mention daylight saving time and suddenly everyone becomes a sleep scientist, an energy expert, and an amateur astronomer.

"I want more daylight after work."

"No, I want sunlight in the morning."

"But think about the children waiting for the bus."

"But think about evening golf."

"But think about farmers."

Poor farmers.

They get dragged into this argument every single year despite repeatedly telling everyone they didn't ask for this.

They're just trying to get the crops in while the rest of us are arguing over whether 7:15 should really be 6:15.

Then I learned something I somehow never knew.

We already tried this.

Back in the 1970s, the United States decided permanent daylight saving time sounded like a fantastic idea.

The country was dealing with an energy crisis. Leaders believed keeping daylight saving time year-round would conserve fuel and make better use of daylight.

People initially loved the idea.

Who wouldn't?

An extra hour of evening sunshine sounds magical.

Until January showed up.

Suddenly people were driving to work in complete darkness.

Kids were heading to school before sunrise.

Parents were nervous.

Teachers hated it.

Public opinion changed so quickly that the experiment lasted less than a year before Congress reversed course.

Apparently Americans discovered there's a huge difference between imagining extra daylight in July and actually living through a pitch-black January morning.

Honestly...

That feels very on-brand for us.

We're incredible at falling in love with ideas.

Living with those ideas?

Different story.

Of course, now Congress is talking about trying it again.

Which means we're all right back where we started.

Half the country wants permanent daylight saving time.

The other half wants permanent standard time.

The remaining five people are still trying to figure out how to reset their digital clocks.

Here's what really makes me laugh.

Every six months, social media fills with dramatic declarations.

"This is ruining my life."

"We have to end this."

"I can't function."

Then...

Three days later...

We're all back to arguing about grocery prices, potholes, and why someone parked diagonally across two spaces at Walmart.

I guess it's comforting.

Daylight saving time may change the clock.

But it never changes us.

We'll still be tired.

We'll still complain.

We'll still forget to change one random clock somewhere in the house until Easter.

And we'll still spend every spring convincing ourselves that this year feels harder than last year.

So here's my proposal.

I genuinely don't care whether we keep daylight saving time, keep standard time, or invent an entirely new system where noon is whenever everyone collectively feels ready.

I just want to stop changing the clocks.

Mostly because I'm tired of discovering, three weeks later, that the clock in my car has been quietly judging me the entire time.