I have always turned lights on as I’ve walked through the house. I suppose it was probably about 30% imagination and 70% klutz factor. My eyes seem to bring shadows to life, but more importantly, my feet seem to find every obstacle in the dark. After I married Paul he always laughed at my light turning on tendancies and began shutting lights off on me (lovingly of course) and I began calling him (lovingly of course too) the Light Nazi.
Well, over the years, I have become quite used to walking around in the dark and have convinced my imagination to leave me alone (actually, I just sing primary songs when my imagination starts to get the better of me).
The other night Paul was at the priesthood session of General Conference and Murdoch was barking in the backyard on his dog run line. He was barking like crazy and driving me mad. So, I decided to go down and let him in. I laid the baby in his cradle/bassinet at the side of my bed and went down the stairs. As I moved through the house there was a little light streaming in through the small front windows beside the door from our front outdoor lamp, so I didn’t feel the need to flip any lights on.
As I moved to the back of the house toward the back door I applauded myself on the fact that even though it was darker I still hadn’t turned on a single light. Wouldn’t Paul be proud? I grabbed the leash and flipped on the outside light. It didn’t turn on, but knowing it was a motion sensing light, it didn’t bother me. I opened the door. I couldn’t even see the dog it was so dark, but I knew the light would come on soon.
Stepping carefully, I made my way down the stairs, all the time hoping the light would turn on soon. All was going well until the world dropped out from under me. Literally. Okay, it wasn’t the world, it was just a step. I had misjudged how many steps there were in the dark and I missed the final stair.
With a startled, “Oh crap! (yes, I know, I need to watch my phrase-ology, but in my defense I was caught by surprise and there were no children around), I found the deck rushing up to meet me. I hit with such a resounding clatter that the dog took off yelping in terror. It quickly turned to a defensive frenzy of barking as my arm did a complete windmill and released the leash, which went sailing past his head.
Because it had just rained, the deck was unusually slippery. My knee met the deck first. The rest of me quickly followed, causing my leg to go shooting backwards along the deck, leaving streaks of brown dirt up down my pants and shins. With my legs shooting out behind me, I put my hands out to catch myself. This was rather pointless as they went skidding off in front of me, leaving me with little other course than to complete the belly flop on the deck.
After telling Murdoch to be quiet (actually I said shut-up – I was not in the best of humor at this point) I listened in satisfaction as the barking came to an immediate halt. I stumbled to my feet and scanned the dark deck in front of me.
Still, leash flying through the air and all, the light on the back porch had failed to come on. I felt around blindly and could find no leash. Finally, as I turned back to scowl at the light that failed, it flared to life bathing the backyard in welcomed light. I spotted the leash a good 3 or more feet off the deck laying in the grass. After fetching the leash, I limped my way to the dog and led him inside.
When Paul got home I looked at him rather crossly. “Conserving energy is hazardous to your health.”
He gave me a puzzled look and I told him of my adventure. He didn’t even try to mask the laugh or hide the smile. “Oh, I always turn the light on inside before taking the dog out.Why didn’t you?”
“Because you’re the light nazi!” I shook my head, starting to laugh. “I was trying to be all cool walking around in the dark like my hubby. Dork.”
So, if you drive by our house in the very late evening and find it blazing with lights – I’m only taking the dog out. 😀 Maybe the higher electric bill will be worth not having higher medical bills.