Our lovely best friend the electrician came to visit yesterday and stayed with us for seven and a half hours. He is very friendly and capable and he fixed absolutely everything. We now have working lights with non-taking-your-life-in-your-own-hands wiring down in the basement and all of the electrical outlets (both inside and outside of the house) now have actual electrical current reaching them and the ceiling lights in the bathroom and the dining room are no longer sort of dangling. He even replaced the light over the kitchen sink that went on the fritz immediately following his last visit. It was more than just the broken baklava and he had to replace the whole thing, but it is all new and shiny/shining now.

As things had slowly disintegrated over the past couple of decades, we had gradually gotten used to it -- carrying a flashlight down in the basement, not plugging things in on the front porch. We had accommodated ourselves. But now it is blindingly bright and electrified everywhere and we even practically need sunglasses in the basement. When Jonathan first went down there, he said, "Wow!" When I first went down there a while later, I said, "Wow!" It's like we are Neanderthals discovering fire.

Our dear friend left about seven o'clock, leaving us (at long last) in a house where every single light, outlet, socket, wire, and switch was in perfect working order. We sprang into action making some dinner. Jonathan turned on the light over the stove and -- may the gods strike me dead this very moment if this is not absolutely true -- it came on for two seconds and then died.