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.