Things best left undone...

Nighttime is a fun time of night. More especially so when you are sleep deprived. I say this because nocturnal wanderings are oh so much more fun in the dark. Some things are better left undone or only attempted with the light turned on.

But you never find that out until hindsight kicks in... if you will pardon the pun.

When you are sleepy, you don't think straight and seldom do you make rational choices. Take for instance this unhappy scenario -

While wandering through the house at odd hours desperately perambulating around furniture, shoes, pets and other obstacles in a somnambulant state, I am searching with my hands outstretched for the medicine cabinet. I know where it is in my sleep. Or at least I know IN THEORY.

After a couple of false starts in the spice racks, I find the proper cabinet. Because I attempt to be a polite person and not roast the retinas of the sleeping inhabitants of the house, I leave the lights off. Being awakened by the brilliant flickering of overhead lighting isn't the best way to wake up.

And I don't WANT middle of the night company anyway. I just want DRUGS!! At this point, my arm is falling off or doing a credible imitation of it, and I want to salvage whatever giblets of sleep may remain before the alarm rudely compels me to rise without my requisite sleep fulfillment.

In my attempt to gather the medicine that will restore some semblance of sanity, I reach out feeling the bottles in the shelf determining by height which of the bottles is "THE ONE" that contains the miracle cure. I have them arranged by what they are for just such an occasion.

That was a bad idea. A really, REALLY bad idea.

Did you know that my pain reliever tablets come in EXACTLY the same size and shape bottle as the little laxative pills do?

Yeah, me neither. Until later on...

Never try to sprint to the bathroom while you are half asleep. The doorjamb is NOT your friend and sitting down on the cold porcelain because the seat is up isn't meant for sissies in February's chill.

Of course, the good news is that now I can hit all of those high soprano notes that normally elude my second alto self. But since I have politely shoved a towel into my own mouth to prevent my frozen tail inspired screaming from waking the entire neighborhood, no one can hear me scream. It's a scene that Alfred Hitchcock would love with the juxtaposition of near comedy and absolute tragedy mixed in a shaker of dark-thirty theater in the round.

As a note of caution, install some instant turn-on lights in your medicine chest. It may save your life. No one wants "Died from pneumonia due to a frozen butt" chiseled on their tombstone.

I'm just sayin'...