When I got into bed last night something was amiss…

… and my tics were quick to notice what it was. The lamp-post I can usually see from my bedroom window was hidden from view because Leftwing Idiot had already rolled my blind down.

My tics chat to the lamp-post most nights, and even though I couldn’t see it last night, they carried on as usual.

“The lamp-post hasn’t brushed its teeth!”
“Lamp-post, do you have dog wee on your bottom?”
“Lamp-post, what are you doing behind there?”

I kept urging Leftwing Idiot to check if the lamp-post was still there. He assured me it was. But this set my tics off in a new, more philosophical direction:

“If a lamp-post shines in the night and no one’s around to see it, should it get a redundancy package?”
“If a lamp-post looks at the moon and no one’s around, do they bump heads?”

The lamp-post and my tics have a complex relationship but it’s one that never fails to make me laugh.