I don't always notice the details. Sometimes the little things escape me. At times I find myself in a perpetual state of distractedness, somewhat like the absent-minded professor juiced up on estrogen, midol and Hi-C punch.
A few nights ago I was reminded that I don't always approach my surroundings with eyes open wide - in fact, it's more like brain closed shut.
My husband and I were reading in bed until we were ready to succumb to the exhaustion a full day can bring. I laid my book on my side table, snuggled under the covers, and proceeded to watch John get out of bed, walk around to my bedside table, turn off my lamp, return to his side of the bed, turn off his lamp and settle beneath the duvet.
I couldn't contain my surprise and asked him, "Why did you just get out of bed to turn off my lamp on my side of the bed?"
He responded, "I have been turning your lamp off every night for as long as I can remember."
"What?! Why would you do that?" I laughed.
"Well," he replied, "I could tell you to turn off your own lamp but you would claim that I am closer, which I am not. Or you will say that I am already up, which I am not. Or that you are already asleep, which you are not. So rather than traveling down that irrational path of make-believe scenarios, I choose to simplify our nightime ritual. I turn off your light."
I just HOWLED! I laughed and I snorted until my stomach remembered it still had muscles. Knee-slapping, joyful tears streamed down my face as I thought about all the nights this sweet man turned out my light while in his head he must have been thinking, "I cannot believe I am doing this..."
Since then, and especially now that I have been enlightened (sorry), I am left to my own devices regarding my own personal lamp. Such a shame. I had a good thing going.