“Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ”
I don’t like the dark.
Oh sure, all the really good stuff goes on after sun-down. And the effect of low-light on my face can only be described as miraculous. But I still don’t like the dark.
Right now, we’re down to just over 7 hours of light in a day. Not enough to feel normal, by any means.
That’s probably why one of the few things I really, truly enjoy about the Christmas season are the lights.
(photo from here)
It’s as if, by putting up these strings of bulbs, lighting them for 2/3 of a day, we’re fighting back. Flipping the darkness the bird, if you will. Refusing to give in to the dark, and maybe by extension evil and fear and all things negative.
Which is why the advent of LED lights is gutting me.
Yes, I know they use a fraction of the energy of regular, old-fashioned incandescents. They’re the way of the future, the right thing to do.
But for the love of Edison, they give off about as much light as an orange cat.
(image from here)
Not only do they not fulfill the role that Christmas lights have always taken on for me, they actually go so far as to bum me the hell out. Forget raging against the dying of the light, LED lights are like a half-hearted shake of the fist at the dying of the light, then losing interest half-way through the shake, and going back to your crossword puzzle.
I know they’re the right thing to do. But god damn LED lights, you’re wrecking this for me. And there’s not a whole lot of things I have left to love about the season.
If anyone messes with eggnog, I give up.