I may have posted about this somewhere on my blog over the past decade, but since it happened to me this morning, it’s fresh in my mind and I want to talk about it again.
I turn out the lights.
I don’t mean by flipping a light switch – we all do that. Rather, when I pass street lights, they often go out. It’s a family trait, actually – both mom and dad had the ability as well, and mom had it a smidge stronger, since she could make watches stop working with regularity simply by putting them on.
This morning, I was going through the Lincoln Tunnel while listening to some spacey Porcupine Tree when I noticed the occasional light dying as the bus passed it. I counted five different instances of this happening in the five minutes I was under the Hudson.