just now i went to get a book out of my locker. i walked into the lounge & as i went across the room, i thought, "why are the lights not turning on in here?"
(for the record: i have never, ever worked in a place with motion-detector-enabled lighting. although i wouldn't mind working in the asian wing of some museum, stashed in the basement where no one ever goes, just me & the porcelain & the lights coming on as i move through the hall, the lights fading out as i leave.)
[i took out the bit with my mother & the thank-you note & the cookie-on-the-cookie-sheet song, because i had horrible thoughts all evening yesterday of how awful my mother would feel if she knew her words to me were telegraphed over the inter-nett. my mother has a strange relationship with the inter-nett, which she pronounces exactly that way.]
