I guess I never really thought about it. Just was always one of those things that you do. Because it's what you've always done.
But this morning, I noticed it.
Was laying asleep in the bed, sleeping fitfully because the wife.gov has been fighting a chest cold and was coughing and hacking much of the night. I felt bad for her, of course, and wished I could have done something more than the Vick's Vapo-Rub I'd slathered on her torso before putting her to bed, but despite my medical skills, I have no cure for a viral infection. Just one of those things that has to run the course of time.
At any rate, I was laying in bed, more or less sleeping, when I heard my Casey woof. She's a solid dog, not prone to spooking, but will damn sure holler if something in the house is amiss. Jake, my other dog, generally does his own thing, but this time I heard his bark as well, and that brought me from semi-slumber to "OK, I'm awake, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?" condition.
Popped tall out of bed, grabbed the pistol, and did a recon of my house. Quick mental check reminded me that Elder Spawn was out of the house, sleep-over at a friend's place, so that left only two rooms to check. Spawn the younger was asleep, peacefully, and to get to her room you'd either have to break a window or get past me and the dogs. Windows intact, and dogs at the end of the hall.
"Check, room clear."
Move down the hall, clear the living room, all windows intact, door secure. Kitchen, same story. Back den, same. All doors secure, all windows intact, nobody in the house that didn't belong.
Deep breath. False alarm.
I look down to the Glock in my hand, and realize that I'd had proper trigger discipline the entire time, as my booger hook was on the side of the gun, not touching the trigger.
And I'd never bothered to think "Keep your finger off the trigger" during it all. It was just one of those things that I did.
Because it's what I've always done.
Habits can be a good thing. If they're the right habits.