is Scent of a Woman. There’s one line in the movie that makes me cry. I know it’s coming; I know he’s going to say it; I’m prepared for it—but it makes me cry anyway. Every single time. You just know that Lt. Col. Frank Slade would go back and do it all over again, this time without the mistakes, when he shouts, “I’m in the dark here.” Well, I’m not in the dark. Not exactly. But I am in denial.
In the daytime, my living room is ideal. I have a lot of furniture in it, and over the course of several years, I have managed to arrange it so that it will accommodate all of my various activities and interests, such as watching TV, playing music (as in a musical instrument), reading and writing. During the day, these different, if you will, activity stations (a term I borrowed from my friend who is a primary school teacher), are well lit by Mother Nature. But when the sun sets, it’s an entirely different story.
My living room has no overhead lighting. I have a banker’s lamp, complete with the popular green glass shade, on my writing desk. There’s a well-placed floor lamp by a corner arm chair and a third lamp on the end table by the sofa. That’s it. As I mentioned, during the day, it’s fine; during the evening, I’m mostly in the dark, underscored by isolated pockets of light.
Every so often, I am given hints that the lighting situation in my living room is not ideal. When planning to do some mending in front of the television, for example, I often find myself getting up from the couch and going into the kitchen to thread the needle. Or when I’ve dropped something on the floor and it’s rolled somewhere, I turn on the desk lamp, floor lamp and table lamp and even the chandelier in the dining room. But the other day, as I was trying to peer into the enclosed storage area of the end table for an item I was looking for, even with all three living room lights turned on, I had to admit defeat and go and fetch the emergency flashlight in the hallway drawer. It was official; I could no longer effectively fool myself that the lighting in my living room was anywhere near adequate.
For the musician’s playing area, complete with music stand, a tree lamp (a floor lamp with more than one fixture) would be great standing in the corner, while a clip-on reading light for the music stand would make it much more functional. The room could easily house two more table lamps, while the existing floor lamp would be much more effective on the opposite side from where it is now standing. Replacing the current table lamp with a 3-way bulb style light would make the area around the end table more versatile and user-friendly. The open stretch of wall above the sofa would be ideal for two sconces. This roughly formulated plan sounds like it might actually be a viable solution—it covers all the bases, including task lighting and ambient lighting.
But something needs to be done, and soon. All I know is that when I ended up having to fetch the flashlight to look for something that was relatively out in the open, I felt pretty silly.
I am fortunate enough to have an ocean view from my apartment. Quite often, on a summer evening, I delay turning on the lights for as long as possible so that I can enjoy the glorious light shows, a.k.a. sunsets that Mother Nature puts on. Suddenly I’ll find I’m in the dark, the last traces of sunlight being reflected in the water as it fades from the sky. There is something to be said for just sitting quietly in a darkened room—it’s soothing and calming, watching the shifting shadow play created by other light sources.
Although, I have to admit, being in the dark is not so soothing or convenient when trying to fix a hem or entertain friends—something tells me they just might object to chatting and snacking with no lights on.
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