Every weekday at noon and five I hear church bells toll, followed by the strike of 12 or 5, and then an old hymn or two from a church down the street from my office downtown.

It’s a soothing, comforting, peaceful ritual that I have experienced for the last year and a half. And I never realized how much it affected me until this week.

Suddenly the bells are tolling at 11 and 4. I think they moved up the date of changing for Daylight Savings Time this year, and apparently it was originally scheduled for this past weekend. So that has messed up the bells, and they can’t get a repairman out to fix it until next week. I know this because I called the church to get the scoop. It was just too perplexing for me to NOT call.

It’s been bizarre to hear the 12 tolls and not start thinking about lunch. Then I lose track of time and before I know it it’s almost 12:30. Hey, what happened to lunch?

And of course at 4, I want to start packing everything up and get the heck out of there! But I keep plugging away and then lose track of time and end up working past 5.

It’s just too bizarre to not react when I hear those bells. So, for this week, I’m just supposed to ignore them. Yah right.

Just call me Pavlov’s dog. Did that dog actually have a name?...