I hate heights. Seriously - even a stepstool is a bit much for my delicate system. Just ask Thing One or Thing Two.
Until last year, heights were just about the one thing you could be sure I'd be nervous about. There are things I don't like, or just will refuse to do (sing in public, eat insects, join the polar bear club, for example), but really hate? Just heights.
Until last year, that is. Now lightning has joined the club. I used to love lying in bed watching the pretty light show, but no longer. I tend to flinch when I see the flash, and if the storm goes on long enough (or heavy enough), I'll get nervous.
This morning, at about 3:30am, we had a storm and The Boys and I were snuggling close. Then came a flash - not a short one, but a long, sustained one. I counted to see how close, but no thunder ever came. For the next 15-20 minutes, there were several of these flashes: more like bright lights at a theatre flickering to tell patrons to return to their seats than regular lightning flashes. I never heard thunder, so they must have been pretty far south of me.
Still, I couldn't get back to sleep.