When my neighbor stubbornly refused to turn off his blinding floodlights at night, I knew my husband and I had to get creative. Instead of escalating the conflict, we devised a clever plan that solved the problem and kept the peace in our neighborhood.
I still remember the day that the Thompsons moved in next door. They seemed like a nice enough couple, and my wife, Gia, got on with Susan instantly. They spoke about unpacking boxes while Gia hung our clothes on the line.
It seemed like we finally had a couple around our age we could sit back and hang out with. The husband, Mark, was a corporate guy, and he traveled a lot because of work. His wife, Susan, was the complete opposite. She was a homebody and seemed to have phobias of just about everything.
“Seriously, Anthony,” Gia told me when she was making toasted sandwiches for us. “Susan said that she had a phobia of the dark, thunderstorms, snakes, clowns, and spiders. And she said that even the sound of the wind howling through the trees sends shivers up her spine.”
“Is she being for real or just dramatic?” I asked as I poured some juice.
“I have no idea,” Gia replied. “But it’s just what she told me over the fence now.”
Now, I’m reasonable. I’m all for understanding people’s quirks and fears. We all have them.
But, as time went on, Susan’s fear of the dark led to a problem that quickly started messing with Gia and me.
The problem was their damn floodlights over the garage.
At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Mark and Susan got those lights installed after they moved in. And anyway, I had gotten ours installed a few months before as well, but our lights were much kinder on the eyes.
Instead, their lights were the kind that you’d see in front of a prison or an airport.
“They’re just blinding LEDs, Anthony,” Gia complained after the first night of barely any sleep. “I’m sure that you could see them from space.”
“Do you want me to talk to them?” I asked her as she put on thick concealer under her eyes.
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“No, I’ll speak to Susan,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Naturally, she didn’t.
“She said that she needs them. Like really, Anthony. She insists that they stay on all night because they make her feel safe when Mark is away,” Gia said, walking into the house in frustration.
“I understand that,” I said diplomatically. “But the problem is that they shine right into our bedroom window. That’s not on.”
We decided not to cause any issues and went out to buy thick curtains and a set of blackout blinds, and once, we even tried to rearrange our bed.
Nothing worked.
Every night, I’d lie in bed, feeling that relentless light piercing through, making sleep a distant memory.
After a week of restless nights, I decided that it was time to approach Mark and Susan. As much as I understood her need for safety, I was also getting irritable from the lack of sleep.
I walked over one afternoon, catching Susan sitting on the lawn reading a book, and I politely brought up the lights.
“Hey, Susan,” I started, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to ask if there’s any chance you could turn off those floodlights after 11 or 12 p.m.? They’re shining directly into our bedroom, and it’s been a bit difficult to sleep.”
Susan looked at me with a tight smile.
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, Anthony!” she said. “But you see, with Mark away so often, I just feel safer with them on. You know, in case anyone tries to break in. I’ve explained it to Gia.”
I tried reasoning with her, but nothing worked.
“I can help you install a timer so that the lights switch on and off at certain times, Susan. It’s easy!” I said.
“I just don’t think I’d feel comfortable with that,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.
I walked back home to where Gia handed me a beer and continued making dinner.
“At least you tried,” she said, looking at my face.
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