Mark, the spouse, worked for a corporation and had to travel frequently for work. Susan, his spouse, was the total opposite. She appeared to be afraid of almost everything and was a homebody. Gia informed me, “Seriously, Anthony,” as she was preparing our toasted sandwiches. Susan revealed that she was afraid of snakes, spiders, thunderstorms, the dark, and clowns. She added that she gets chills merely just the sound of the wind screaming through the woods.”“Is she being for real or just dramatic?” As I poured some juice, I inquired.With a “I have no idea,” Gia answered. “But it’s just what she told me over the fence now.” I’m sensible now. I’m all for accepting the peculiarities and anxieties of others. Everybody has them. But over time, Susan’s phobia of the dark became a problem that soon began to cause issues for Gia and me. Their dreadful floodlights above the garage was the issue. < It didn’t seem like a big deal at first. After moving in, Mark and Susan had those lights installed. In any case, our lights were considerably gentler on the eyes than yours; I had had ours put a few months earlier. Rather, the lights resembled those found in front of an airport or prison. Gia griped, “They’re just blinding LEDs, Anthony,” during her first night of not sleeping at all. “I’m sure that you could see them from space.” “Do you want me to talk to them?” She was applying a lot of concealer around her eyes when I questioned her.She answered, “No, I’ll talk to Susan.” “I’m sure she’ll understand.” Of course she didn’t. “She claimed to be in need of them. Really, Anthony, really. Gia walked frustratedly inside the home and stated, “She insists that they stay on all night because they make her feel safe when Mark is away.” “I acknowledge that,” I remarked in a tactful manner. However, the issue is that they beam directly through our bedroom window. That is inappropriate. Choosing not to make trouble, we went out and purchased blackout shutters and heavy curtains. We even attempted to reposition our bed once.Nothing was successful. I used to lie in bed every night and feel that constant light penetrating through, erasing all recollection of sleep. A week of sleepless nights later, I made the decision it was time to talk to Mark and Susan. Though I could understand her need for protection, my lack of sleep was also making me agitated. One afternoon, I happened to stroll past Susan while she was reading a book on the grass, and I gently turned on the lights. “Hey, Susan,” I said, attempting to sound informal. Would it be possible for you to switch off those floodlights after 11 or 12 p.m.? It has been a little tough to fall asleep because they are shining straight into our bedroom.” Susan grinned tightly as she glanced at me.“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, Anthony!” she responded. “However, since Mark is gone so frequently, I simply feel safer wearing them. You know, in case there’s a break-in attempt. I’ve given Gia an explanation.” I attempted to reason with her, but to no avail. “Susan, I can assist you in setting up a timer to turn the lights on and off at specific intervals. It’s simple!” I stated. She stated emphatically, “I just don’t think I’d feel comfortable with that,” giving no opportunity for discussion. After I walked back home, Gia gave me a beer and carried on preparing dinner. She stated, “At least you tried,” glancing at my face. I brought up the topic a few more times over the course of the following few weeks. I even chatted with Mark when he was at home since I thought he could be a little more sensible.Do you really think it’s simple for me to leave my wife behind when I go for work, Anthony? I’m constantly concerned about her. These lights appear to be the only solution. They provide her a sense of security, and I value that.” So we continued to lose sleep and the lights remained on. My mind began to go into unsettling, darker area at that point. “What if I just climbed up there and unscrewed the bulbs?” One morning during breakfast, I asked Gia. She mumbled, “It would take too long.” “Or I could use the pellet pistol to eliminate them. swift and tidy. It’s somewhere in the garage.” “Honey, this isn’t you,” she grinned. “As frustrated as you are, this isn’t you.” “You’re right,” I responded.It was accurate. I had no intention of igniting a neighborhood conflict over this.Gia went on, “But you could do something safe.” “Tomorrow, Susan and I are getting our nails done. We’re going to be gone for an hour. Sufficient time?” I gave a nod. After Gia and Susan departed the following day, I stole the ladder from the garage and snuck over to the house next door. I gradually unscrewed each lightbulb. I was hesitant to remove them. I only wanted to make sure that the electric connection would be off if I unscrewed the bulb. Susan had turned on the lights that evening, and they flickered for a little while before going out. “Oh, at last,” Gia muttered, turning to face her side. We both woke up the following morning feeling more rejuvenated than we have in weeks. The strategy had succeeded. I could sleep in lovely darkness with Gia.I thought Susan would knock on my door as soon as I turned on the coffee maker, but apparently they had not noticed. Months went by, and the lights never came back on. Perhaps they had given up trying to keep them on all night, I reasoned. “Maybe they realized that their electricity bill was just too high,” she said. However, one day I noticed Mark experimenting outside without warning. He was re-tightening the bulbs while perched atop the ladder. As expected, that evening saw the lights come back on, seemingly more brilliant than before. With a sigh, I prepared myself for yet another round of restless nights as my spouse muttered obscenities. But then I realized that anything may work again if it had previously worked. So I did my little trick again. This exchange of ideas continued for almost a full year. I would always loosen the bulbs back after Mark would tighten them. It turned into a rut. But then Mark happened to wander by one Saturday morning while I was cutting the hedges. We hadn’t really talked since I confronted him over the lights the first time. He said, “Anthony.” “Have you had any trouble with your outdoor lights?”“Problem? What sort of issues?” “Well, ours keeps breaking. Additionally, the bulbs keep loosening up even after I’ve had to retighten them a few times. It’s the most peculiar thing. I forced myself to remain neutral, nodding empathetically. I have experienced the same problem. Most likely, it’s vibrations from our street’s traffic or something similar. With time, they can shake things loose.” I was surprised at how composed I was when I said that. “That makes sense,” he remarked. “I’ll just have to keep an eye on them.” Alternatively, you might ignore them. For exactly the same reason, I eventually gave up on mine. Compared to constantly having to get out the old ladder, it’s a lot less of a headache.” After giving it some thought, Mark shrugged.“Well, perhaps you’re correct; that shouldn’t be a concern for us. Regards, Anthony.And like that, Gia and I were back to our quiet, pitch-black evenings. How would you have responded in that situation?