Doing Laundry

I'm becoming increasingly disgusted with my childishness.
Are you afraid of the dark?
Me neither... sort of.
So... ok fine. Here's the story:
I wanted to switch my laundry. The washer and dryer and soap and whatever else I needed were in the basement. That tends to be the place for such things. We've all seen Home Alone, right? Except there's no scary heater thing that awaits me in my basement. In fact, there isn't much of anything down there. Except the washer and dryer and soap and whatever else I needed. That, and darkness.
I was fine putting my darks in the dryer, added some dryer sheets to keep my jeans from getting too stiff. I had no difficulties putting my whites in the washer; though, I think I may have left the cold setting on. I've heard that whites ought to be washed in warm. Oh well.
Anyhow, I stretched to my tip-toes to reach the string that connects to the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. I always falter with the light. My stature is not appropriate for such short strings from such high ceilings. Nevertheless, I was able to reach after much stretching and hopping. Then plunged into utter and pitch darkness. I literally felt as though I had dove under water. It was cold and it seemed the air had been pinched from my lungs. Plus, I suddenly felt like the nocturnals had awoken and were silently drifting near... like those biting sunnies at Lake Kohlmier. Waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark took more self control than I could muster. Alas, I lack the discipline to stand up to the ebony unknown. Hence, I ran.
I ran across the room, slipped on the damp concrete floor. A slip! That's exactly what I need, to slow down, to let whatever is pursuing me, advancing with ease. I imagine they are darker than darkness itself, which is a terrifying thought because darkness is scary enough for me.
So I slipped. I didn't fall though. I caught myself on the wall and rushed onward. Up up up the stairs. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't help but feel I had narrowly escaped some unspeakable doom. I was hot; I could feel my face burn, probably from shame. What a child, running away from my imagination. As if I could actually conjure the beasts I created in my mind. My face burned. My chest heaved. I could hear my heartbeat in my head. The blood was rushing, exploding through my veins. Embarrassed and ashamed, I convinced myself to walk down the dark hallway to my room. I stepped on my toes, ever ready to take flight in case any threat might arise. Believe it or not, I made it to my room safe and sound.

Pretty pathetic, huh? I think so.
Then again, how unbelievable is it to imagine there is a monster hiding in the basement? It could nestle behind the dryer, where is would be cozy and warm.

I bet it eats socks. I always seem to come up short.