It’s a simple act, turning on a light.
“What are you doing? Turn that off!”
“Why? It’s dark in here, I can’t see.”
“See how high up that light is?”
I’ve lived in this house for years, walked through this foyer countless times.
“We don’t have a ladder high enough to reach it. If that bulb burns out, we’ll never get it changed.”
“If that’s the case, why don’t we use it until it does burn out?”
She looks at me like I’m a stupid child, one that may not make it past the 6th grade.
I turn off the light.