It's the end of the world. Again.

This year, I didn't do any rebellious excessive lights on exercises as my snub to ridiculous Earth Hour.  This year I forgot.  Not that it made any difference, because I quite like celebrating my lightbulbs.  At the scheduled time of mass hysteria, I think I was in a restaurant in Mt Victoria, or walking down Courtenay Place, and there wasn't a dangerous candle in sight and all the lights were blazing.  I thank all the bars and restaurants for their thoughtfulness in ensuring no one killed me, or they didn't burn down their premises, or I didn't break my ankle on the way back to my car.

I drove home, via the brightly-lit supermarket, well within the allotted Earth Hour hour, to a house blazing with lights (haha, fooled that burglar), and, once again, I gave my thanks to Mr Edison.  At that point, I did turn off all the unimportant lights, but only because I care about my power bill.

I read a vacuous pro-Earth Hour comment from a friend on Facebook, but chose to deal to it with a deft piece of mental taekwando, using a stance that was fluid, flexible, and centred.

I then decided to get myself a drink of filtered water from my non-efficient fancy fridge.  I couldn't be bothered turning on the lights, not in any deference to Earth Hour, but because I am lazy.  However, tonight was different to most nights.  Tonight, I discovered that my neighbours are Earth Hour freaks, or they were all out, because there was no neighbourly light streaming into my kitchen.  I found my way to the fridge with the help of my shin bones and toes.  I think I may have broken every bone in both legs.

I did get to my fridge, but instead of having a drink of water, chose to empty all the contents from my freezer to use as ice packs.

I blame Earth Hour.