I distinctly remember waking up last night around 2:30 a.m. and being worried—consumed, obsessed—about finding some petroleum jelly for my nostrils, which sometimes get dry at night and which, if I let them get too dry, are known to bleed in protest.
I walked through every room of the upstairs trying to find a jar of it.
I did not turn on a single light or take my phone with me to use as a flashlight. I just felt my way around the obstacles.
When I finally located some in a pocket of my backpack on the kitchen counter, I took it back to bed (the jelly) and set it on my nightstand, where it remained, unused, until morning.
I have no idea why I did this.