Mr. Thor is away on business. Well, as business as one can be while at CES. I am sure he will be Mr. Business, since he is in Vegas for 8 days without his better half.

I don’t worry about Mr. Thor. He does his thing, and his thing is being awesome and amazing. That’s good enough for me.

I worry about me. I don’t like the dark. I don’t like being alone at night. I don’t like walking up the stairs with a dark house behind me.

I know, I know. These are the problems of a five-year-old, and no matter how hard I try to not be afraid of the dark, I just… still am. At least a little.

Mr. Thor actually stands in the dining room and leaves the light on until I get halfway up the stairs. Then he turns the light off and follows me up the stairs, so that I know I am safe with him behind me.

I can hear you throwing up from here, you know. He isĀ  really that sweet. Even when I tell him not to wait for me, he does.

That was not supposed to be the point here today. The point, my lovelies, is that tonight, when I walked out to my car at 5:30pm in January? I was greeted by this:

It doesn’t look like much, I’ll grant you that. But to me it is hope. It is the beginning of the light at the end of the tunnel. The beginning of the end of having my headlights on at 5:30pm. The beginning of the end of a completely dark and cold one hour car ride home.

It’s not dark. It’s just… dim.