For the last three months, I've been living by the light of a single 70 watt bulb. There's an overhead light in my apartment attached to an electric ceiling fan; however, when I first moved in, I pressed all the buttons on the remote and it didn't turn on, so I figured it was broken. Every night for three months, I've hauled a lamp back and forth from between my desk and my nightstand- often several times a night- as if it were a lantern. I might've actually preferred a lantern, or even a candle; at least then I wouldn't have had to continually plug and unplug it. The other day, my landlord Patrick came by to seal off possible entry points for mice. While my last visitor- Jerry- pretty much just kept to himself, I didn't think that the next mouse would be as respectful.
When I got home that evening, the overhead fixture was emanating light throughout every corner of my apartment. I could almost hear Handel's "Messiah" blaring as I entered. The light amplified just how miserable of an experience coming home to darkness had been. and I immediately signed online to thank Patrick.
me: hey thanks for fixing the light!
it makes a WORLD of difference
Patrick: i didn't
zaina, you have to have the switch up
Alas, the experience of having a well-lit apartment will forever be tainted by the humiliation of knowing that I could have had one all along.
When I got home that evening, the overhead fixture was emanating light throughout every corner of my apartment. I could almost hear Handel's "Messiah" blaring as I entered. The light amplified just how miserable of an experience coming home to darkness had been. and I immediately signed online to thank Patrick. 
