...that is useless even to me.
I've recently discovered my dislike for walking in the dark. Note that I do not say that I'm afraid of the dark. I'm not. I just don't like to move about in the dark.
Alongside my eye-sight-debilitating habit of reading in bed, I've gotten into the habit of turning on my reading light prior to turning off the ceiling light.
During the few occasions that I was so tired that I was rendered partially dysfunctional, I'd perform the switch-on-switch-off routine in reverse order. Hence the discovery.
It takes only five steps to get to my bed from the light switch. It takes only about half a second for me to realize that I've made a mistake in my light switching routine and that it's no big deal.
But in that short distance and brief period, while my eyes adjusted to the light and shapes start to become clearer in the darkness, I never fail to see a big, solid, looming figure standing in front of me. Just for a split second. The sensation is similar to that of blacking out. You know, when your eyes are wide open but all you see is black?
This occurrence is alarming enough that my mouth would open for a beginning of what might develop into a dramatic gasp but it was brief enough that by the first intake of air, I was already walking to my bed and reaching for the reading light switch.
There. This bit of information is so inane that I can't even think of a conclusion that would cleverly warrant this entry.
I've recently discovered my dislike for walking in the dark. Note that I do not say that I'm afraid of the dark. I'm not. I just don't like to move about in the dark.
Alongside my eye-sight-debilitating habit of reading in bed, I've gotten into the habit of turning on my reading light prior to turning off the ceiling light.
During the few occasions that I was so tired that I was rendered partially dysfunctional, I'd perform the switch-on-switch-off routine in reverse order. Hence the discovery.
It takes only five steps to get to my bed from the light switch. It takes only about half a second for me to realize that I've made a mistake in my light switching routine and that it's no big deal.
But in that short distance and brief period, while my eyes adjusted to the light and shapes start to become clearer in the darkness, I never fail to see a big, solid, looming figure standing in front of me. Just for a split second. The sensation is similar to that of blacking out. You know, when your eyes are wide open but all you see is black?
This occurrence is alarming enough that my mouth would open for a beginning of what might develop into a dramatic gasp but it was brief enough that by the first intake of air, I was already walking to my bed and reaching for the reading light switch.
There. This bit of information is so inane that I can't even think of a conclusion that would cleverly warrant this entry.
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