old habits die hard

it's been over a month of living in the little cabin on the river. one month and fifteen days to be exact of no electricity, and yet, each and every time i enter the dark cabin in the wee hours of the morning, i reach for the light switch. each and every time. it's amazing how some habits are so deeply ingrained in our habitual lives that it seems as though they are creases in our fabric that will never be ironed out. it makes me wonder what other deeply seeded patterns i have, and if another three months will leave me still reaching for the light switch, or whether upon returning to the city, i will instead bring my hand to my forhead in an attempt to click on my headlamp when walking through the front door of a dark house.