Back last week when it was so miserably hot out, I got into the habit of not opening my blinds until late in the afternoon. That kept it a tiny bit cooler inside, but it also might have contributed to my dark, dark mood. I'm a creature of the light. I'm just a big old moth, I guess.

Sure, I'm a night person and I'd sleep the morning away if I could. But I don't sit in the dark, and I don't make a habit of going to dark places. The best thing about going to a movie in the daytime is stepping out of the theater into the sunshine and realizing there are still a few hours of light left.

In fact, my reluctance to go to bed until I can no longer keep my eyes open is a kind of rage against the dying of the light. I stay up so I don't have to face the darkness, either physical or internal, with the thoughts that come while lying in the dark, half awake and barely alert. Anything can happen then.

It's no wonder people believe in all sorts of impossible things, because nothing seems out of the question in the dark. I let myself fall asleep in the living room, with the lights on, almost every night. The book in my hands or the television show playing in front of me is an excuse to stay up, not a reason.

Now that it's cooled off, I'm opening the blinds in the morning again. That makes the work day go a lot more smoothly. I don't think I'm even conscious of the difference, unless I stop to think about it. I needed it to be a little cooler inside than outside last week, but I got relief from the heat at a price. I'm not sure it was worth it, considering how miserable I was for a couple of days.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I should be let off the hook for seeming to complain about the heat last week. I wasn't really complaining about the heat. I was complaining about the darkness I was using to escape from the heat. Not the same thing at all.