Last night I learned two things about myself.
1. I am really afraid of the dark.
2. I still believe that my bed will protect me from everything that is evil.
I woke up around 4am to a very large crash in my apartment. My heart was racing, I started sweating -- but still, I sat in my bed. I felt like I was 8 years old again, where the bed was a safe haven from the snakes underneath it and the monsters outside the blankets. I honestly believed last night if a burglar was in my house, somehow I would be just fine as long as I stayed under the covers in my bed, pretending to be asleep. Just like I did when I was a kid.
Obviously, my bed kept me safe as I am sitting here today, typing this post. It turns out that no one was breaking into my apartment through the front door (or the balcony.) What actually happened was that I packed my poor little NYC closet so full, that the entire thing came crashing down. At 4am.
I lived to tell the tale -- thank you bed, for always being there to protect me.
