The Psychology of Darkness

Since the time change, my afternoons at work have become progressively hampered by moodiness. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a bit, but it's undeniable that the sun's earlier setting schedule has affected my state of mind and, consequently, my productivity.

It starts around three o'clock, when slanting rays of late-afternoon sunlight begin to hit the highly reflective windows of a neighboring building, sending concentrated beams unerringly into my window and blinding me as I attempt to work at my computer. (I know, I know, at least I have a window. But, I never realized that damaged retinas were part of the deal when I was given this boon of a window office.) Around 4:00, an orange glow sets in around the horizon, and it would actually be pretty if the golden beams weren't now hitting a different building, creating a big bright glare that, though not quite so blinding, is still distracting and bothersome. By 5:00, everything becomes a dark purple-tinged blur, and I can see the white, fluorescent-bathed reflection of my office better than I can the outside view. When I leave the building at 5:30, I walk out into a shadowy night.

There is just something depressing about leaving work when it's dark. Even though I have the same amount of evening hours as I did before the time change, it just feels so late. I honestly do not know how people living closer to the poles deal with their much more drastic daylight changes. Sometimes, I wish I could succumb to the hibernation impulse called forth by increased darkness and colder temperatures... or at least its human equivalent of burrowing beneath a thick, warm comforter with either a good book or a TV remote in hand... and maybe a mug of warm milk or hot cocoa on the nightstand... Hmm, does the advent of winter cause one to regress?