The only other time that I guest blogged for someone, I’d had a bad day and I don’t exactly count it as, you know…a real blog. If you don’t know, I’m LindzML, a former student of Dr. Bolte’s and a daily reader of her musings, humorous stories and the ever-amazing soul bare-ing that she does so very eloquently. So, I figured that it would be appropriate to share a secret of my own with you all. One that I’ve explained in comments here before. Still, I’ve never really talked about it in public. I think it’s time.
I’m afraid of the dark. Really, really afraid. It’s almost sad. What’s even more upsetting is WHY I’m afraid of the dark.
It is not because of scary movies. I make sure to stay away. It is not because I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer when I was entirely too young. No. I watch too many crime dramas. Law and Order (Original, SVU and the occasional CI), CSI (LV and Miami only) and now my new favorite is Criminal Minds (probably the most horrifyingly scary one of all). Honestly, it’s an obsession that has almost gone too far (and very nearly may as there seem to be countless Law and Order marathons upon us on both TNT and USA) in both time-consumption and the freak-outedness levels I reach as soon as the sun starts to set. It was especially bad last week, not too long after I’d moved into my house and pulled up at around 9:30. All the lights in the house were out, the front porch light was off, and there were no cars in the driveway. My neighborhood is pretty quiet, everyone keeps to themselves and all I could think was that if I walked up and tried to open the door (which is a horror show in and of itself since the lock is so incredibly difficult to open), the axe-murdering rapist that was totally waiting in the shadows was going to come, do his business and then throw me into the swamp across the street where I’d sink to the bottom and be forever lost beneath the green film that has managed to permeate every square inch of that body of water.
So, I called my roommates to see how long it would be before they would be home. The answer? Fifteen minutes. So, I hunkered down, called my boyfriend (who was still two hours away in his hometown) and sat in my car with the lights on, ready to pull out of the driveway the second I saw the New York City gangbangers that were obviously waiting behind my backyard fence in Alachua County. Twenty-five minutes later, they arrived.
And mocked me mercilessly for days.
But you know what? I don’t care. I didn’t get killed by some guy saying “she puts the lotion on the skin” because I waited in the safety of the steel cage that is my Focus. I didn’t open the door to strangers and I wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. Safety in numbers? Nay, safety in DAYLIGHT, my friends. Stick to it.
I’ve got to go. A new Law and Order is about to start, and I think it might be the one where the person kills the other person and the detectives think they’ve got the right person, but then they’re wrong and they find the right person because of a shocking twist and someone gets sent to prison. Or not. It’s crazy good. And don’t worry: all the lights will be on.

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