I know that you can’t tell by my writing, but I am currently ahead of schedule. One hour ahead, to be exact.

If you have any doubt, simply ask my editor who is accustomed to receiving my column at precisely the same time each week, pressed hard against a deadline that approaches too quickly.

So why the about face, you might ask? Is this the new me coming out? Someone who is actually is ahead of schedule for a change? Yeah, right.

The real culprit behind this whole “ahead of schedule” thing is Father Time. I am still reeling from setting the clock back an hour last week.

You think I’m making this up, do ya? Well consider how my week was spent, and maybe you’ll reconsider.

First, and foremost, is that I was exactly 10 minutes late for the early church service this past week, as opposed to being 10 minutes late for the late service. My minister was quite impressed, by the way, to see the Ola family either 10 minutes late or 50 minutes early, depending on which service we were attending.

The usual waitress that serves us brunch on Sunday morning actually only had a breakfast menu available at the time. She had the gall to check her watch when we arrived to confirm that we had, in fact, made it in time for breakfast only.

The classes I taught this past week were also stunned to see their professor on time. Whispers could be heard through the hallowed halls that I was actually taking attendance this week, since I was there to determine who was late.

Even the late Monday night Pittsburgh Steelers game couldn’t prevent me from being on time this week. It’s as if the curse cast over my doomed-to-be-late minivan was lifted and I was, gulp, living in the fast lane for once.

The first few days of this newfound freedom left me perplexed. What does one do with an extra hour each day? By Tuesday, all of my tests had been graded and papers returned to their rightful owners, and all of my phone calls were returned.

By Wednesday, the thought of a nap began to sneak into my mind. This was something I hadn’t done since last year when I had an extra hour to spare, only to have it ripped away in April when the clocks bounced forward.

Who thought of this, by the way? The whole concept of picking up an extra hour at the end of October is something that should certainly win someone a Nobel Prize, or at least a free drink at the local pub.

Additionally, to the person who decided to take the hour back in the spring, who are you and what were you thinking? Don’t you realize that millions of people just like me depend on catching up once per year?

If anything, I think that our legislators should consider adding an extra hour at the end of each month just so that we could all take a breather for once.

Think about it for a minute, or an hour, since you’ve got an extra one. How much more could you accomplish if you knew that at the end of November, you were being given a bonus hour to spend however you wanted?

You could even waste it, since you knew December would offer that same frivolity. It would also extend our year by an hour, so New Year’s Eve would last an entire hour instead of one minute.

Oh well, until then, I guess I will continue to ride the wave of promptness until I get sucked back to reality with paperwork, lack of sleep and too much to do in 24 hours. Enjoy this freedom for as long as it lasts for you!