So Sunday morning, which would of course be yesterday, we got up and checked out of the motel, right on time at 10:00 am. We drove all the way to the tip of Folly Island towards the lighthouse, past where the surfers hang out and parked the car and walked along the beach and sat on this jetty for a while and contemplated some herbal goodness. I took pictures and N lay in the sun with his blinding white self (N is the only person in the world who is actually paler than me) and then we started getting a bit sunburnt, plus we were going to meet two old friends for brunch at noon, so we headed over to James Island. I was sitting on the porch with my old friend R to talk a bit when he asked me what time it was - and told me that the clocks had gone an hour ahead.
Oops. My poor friend H had been sitting at the restaurant where we were supposed to meet for brunch for an hour. He had even called and I hadn't heard the phone ring; then, when I listened to his message, I assumed that he had called me around 12 midnight, since as far as I was concerned it wasn't noon yet and I blithely completely spaced the time change. I'm now in terror that the motel is going to charge me for an extra night (they have strict cranky signs in the rooms about it) and last night it got terribly late terribly fast. I hate springing forward. I am not up to it. And without the computer, which sets itself, I'm apparently completely incapable of finding out the correct time.
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