Don’t you hate when you walk into a darkened room, and you try to hit the light switch in step with your walking momentum but miss?
There you are, in blackness, your hand flapping frantically against the wall like the panicked gropings of a strangling victim. You try to walk on with dignity, but the mute, invisible furniture knows; the silent, staring portraits of you hold their judgmental looks, which seem to say, “You looked a complete idiot.”
With mixed feelings, you realize that those frozen facsimiles of you are right; you did look a complete idiot. And you vow to never look a idiot again.