This encore post from last November is intended as a public service announcement to turn your clocks back tonight, and
to be prepared for an angry, hungry mob tomorrow morning if you dare to take advantage of your extra hour of sleep.
Wynonna: Hurry up. You're an hour late with my dinner.
Me: I beg your pardon, but I am right on time.
Wynonna: Like hell you are.
Me: Wynonna, we've had this same discussion every stinkin' fall for the past 16 years.
Wynonna: And not once has it made any sense. Just shut up and feed me.
Wynonna: I'm waiting...
Me: Foaming at the mouth? Seriously? Isn't that a little dramatic?
Wynonna: I told you I was starving. Did you believe me? No.
I'm going to interrupt this story to point something out that you might have overlooked.
I have snout smears on the front of my house.
Meanwhile, over in the corral...
George: Feed us this very minute or there will be nothing left of my neck.
Do you want that on your conscience?
Alan: Daylight-schmaylight. Would it kill you to feed us a little early?
Lucy: I'm going over there. Maybe I can talk some sense into her.
Lucy: This whole situation is getting entirely out of hand.
Alan and George are about to jump out of their skin they're so hungry.
Alan: I can't HANDLE the time change!
Hank: All good things come to he who waits patiently by his feed tub.