my own alertness. When I drop the room to a single warm lamp, the whole mood of the evening softens, and I notice my shoulders fall before I’ve decided to relax.
The phone matters almost as much, but not for the reason I expected. It isn’t only the light from the screen — it’s the doorway the screen opens. One glance at a message and I’m back in problem-solving mode, the exact mode sleep requires me to leave. Putting the phone across the room makes the wrong choice take effort, and that small friction is enough.
The goal isn’t a perfect
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