(quite the title, eh?)
As I sat down to finally finish the post about the tissue paper pom poms I made, I was relieved to be one step closer to a finished house project. It’s nice to be able to shut my blinds at night. It’s also nice to be able to sit up dramatically in bed, should I so choose, without whacking my head on a purple pouf (if “whacking” is really a word one can use to describe a run in with tissue paper).
But there was one small plus side to having the window directly behind my headboard uncovered at night. On more than one occasion, I woke up in the middle of the night or the still-dark morning, possibly due to some large truck trundling by and rattling the windowpanes, and found something that didn’t really make much sense to me, but that made me hold my breath, that piqued my curiosity (something either aided or hindered by being half-asleep). The headlights from passing cars would come in to my room on the wall next to my bed, long and lean, in vertical streaks. If it had rained, they seemed to be brighter, which might mean this was a complicated reflection thing, or might mean that everything else just seemed darker in comparison. (can you tell I never took physics?) At first, they would be fairly wide and would move very slowly in groups or pairs along the wall. But then each streak would narrow and pick up pace and shoot around the rest of the walls in my room. Slowly enter, pick up speed, fly around three walls, and out the window again. It was totally mesmerizing.
Reminded me a lot of this commercial, which I’ve posted once before. The question at the end is “How do you explain a sensation that only you have felt?”