Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

We’ve got black-out curtain in the bedroom now. Or a block-out curtain. Whatever.

After however many years of Carole complaining about stray light disturbing her at four in the morning, we’ve finally got some curtains that keep out the light. More or less. I mean, we have an awkward window with a stupid pelmet which doesn’t let you hang curtains in an ideal way. But we’ve done the best we can.

I look forward to tomorrow morning when Carole wakes up and reveals what hitherto unknown factor is keeping her awake now.

Maybe it will be too dark?

She has gone around the room eliminating every source of light she can find – the little light on the dehumidifier, for example, has been covered with a sock (yeah, that happened). Every light has been hidden behind something, so as not to pass any photons to the surface of her eyelids as she sleeps.

Apart from her Fitbit which flashes throughout the night as she moves about. Most of the time it’s just the green lights that shine towards the wrist, but every now and again she’ll move in such a way that the whole thing lights up and it’s like an anti-terrorist team have thrown a flashbang grenade into the room.

But she’s really embracing this “bedrooms should have no light” thing. She’s not embracing the “no screens before bed” thing (something I rampantly ignore, to be fair) as she goes to bed and then texts me things that she’s just remembered. Or texts everyone she knows. She tried, for a little bit, to put her phone across the room. But all that meant was when she woke up at 4am she had to get up and quietly (!) pad across the floor before she could light up the entire bed with Instagram.

She’s convinced though, that when I head bedward, I am going to come a cropper because it’s so dark. I mean, I have a reasonable mental map of the bedroom in my mind. I generally only come a cropper when boxes have moved, or jut out from under the bed. Then I smash my toes into them and have to swear silently as I climb into bed and hope I don’t haemorrhage everywhere during the night.

Because there’s nothing worse than waking up to find you’re stuck to the bed as part of a giant scab.