My mom has always said I have a very active imagination.
I have always said my brain just doesn’t know when it’s in its best interest to shut down.
Because of my active imagination or my brain’s lack of self-preservation, I don’t enjoy dark spaces. Or mirrors in the dark. But I’ve already told you about that quirk. Hell, I even wrote a story about it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m a bit afraid of the dark. Wait. That’s not what I’m trying to say. Because I’m an adult. An occasionally rational adult who knows that the dark can not hurt me.
Notice I said the dark can’t hurt me? Duh! Everyone knows that.
Now, the stuff IN the dark CAN hurt you.
The burglars who hide in the dark? Yeah, THEY can hurt you.
Also, those monsters can hurt you. And I know right now you’re laughing at me because you’ve never seen a real monster and everyone knows monsters aren’t real. But I ask you, have you ever seen a coelacanth in real life? [If you say you have, I will slap you.]
You see where I’m going with this?
All this started last night with a fight discussion Tucker and I had over whether or not I should be able to leave the light on over the stove.
My reasoning is/was the itty bitty bulb over the stove doesn’t eat a lot of electricity and the main thing is I don’t want to walk through our apartment when it’s black as pitch. Tucker’s reasoning is/was the light wasn’t/isn’t necessary, that it wastes electricity and that I shouldn’t need a night light.
Since I am an adult [at least that’s what people keep telling me] I figure it’s my right and stuff to leave a light on if I want to leave a light on. If I have to get up every single morning at 2:30 am to change Oliver’s diaper, I should be able to leave a light on. And I should be able to choose what light I leave on. Yeah.
In the end, I turned off the tiny light and we went to bed but I still want a damn nightlight.
I’m an adult. If I want to have a nightlight, I should be able to have a nightlight.