Transitioning in the Dark

I arrived in London early Sunday morning and undertook the adventure of settling in. First up, I needed bedding if I wanted to sleep comfortably that night at my dorm (whose entrance is pictured below... more pictures soon). For some reason, I decided to trek out to IKEA (not that far a trek, really, but not as close as some department stores... live and learn, live and learn). In a jet-lagged daze I tried to pick things that would work, looking at my camera to the sheets, finally settling on a dark shade.

I try to convince myself that it isn't black. But my neighbour across the hall said it point blank: "It's black." Sometimes I think it looks dark navy, sometimes I see shades of green. But really it's black. [which precipitated the buying of new linens, an extra set, more money, another bill (In Paris, apparently they call the bill la douloureuse. I couldn't agree more)]


And this morning, I was equally in the black, in the dark. Aside from waking up bright-eyed at 1am (why? I can't even tell you), I was enjoying my first shower this morning, taking a little extra time to soothe my slightly scratched skin (sheets now washed, duly noted, feeling much smoother), and, all of a sudden, the lights went out. See, the lights in the bathroom are activated by motion. The motion detector, however, does not seem to extend into the shower. So mid-lather, the lights went out, and I let out an expletive, was confused, then laughed, realizing. Waving over the shower door was no good, but an opening and a wave of the door did the trick.

The adventures begin...