I say this because we’re having a terrible time trying to adequately light our front walk and driveway.
When we first moved in, we had a motion-activated light installed, but it wasn’t pointed correctly, because it would come on just in time to illuminate your fall down the front steps. We figured out that you could get them to come on sooner if you waved your arms wildly, but, clearly, this wasn’t the best solution, unless we wanted our new neighbors to think we were lunatics, which they possibly already did, if they had witnessed us playing badminton with our dog.
Barbara then purchased some solar-powered walkway lights, which, I must say, do not serve as a testament to the future of renewable energy, as they illuminate the walk about as much as a firefly would.
So we got Rob the Electrician to install a second motion-activated light, and to redirect all the sensors, so now, with the lights on, the area in front of our garage is so bright at night we could actually play evening basketball games if any of us had any inclination to play basketball, or if we even owned a hoop. It is nice to know we can have nighttime badminton games with our dog, though.
And the 45-degree angle driveway is still awfully dark. It’s not so bad if we’re coming home at night in a car, because the headlights will reflect off the reflector poles we just installed, so we have a reasonable chance of stopping before we drive off the top of the driveway, roll down a hill, and crash into the welded steel bird feeder we just put up, spilling seeds all over the ground so that we will be inundated with all sorts of rodents.
What I worry about is the person walking down the driveway in the morning, while it’s still dark, to get the newspaper from the auxiliary newspaper mailbox that’s under our real, USPS mailbox. I worry because that person is always me.
And now that there is sometimes ice on the ground, it could be even more of a problem. I could carry a flashlight, of course, but what would that look like…me sliding down the driveway on my ass, my arms waving wildly, one hand clutching a flashlight that would be piercing the darkness in all different directions until I came to a stop by the mailbox?
What would the neighbors think then?
See you soon.