You know winter is rounding the corner when we’re forced to change our clocks and revert to standard time. Besides the extra hour of sleep on one lazy Sunday morning, for the childless, pet-less American, there seems to be no other benefit. The lack of sunshine and shorter days pull families indoors, and the human hibernation period begins. If only we could sleep it off like bears do, we could live the winter months in tranquility. But no. The Mars/Venus couples skitter like mice, competing to reign over their nest.

If Edison had been smart, he’d have invented solar power before bothering with the light bulb. The marital problems resulting from excessive use of the light switch are widespread and have wreaked havoc in modern-day homes. Those beloved light bulbs have become the casualty of war in my home. The constant battle on the front lines, as the switch is turned off, then on, then off, has left my supply with a shortened life expectancy. There are a few lucky 60-watters in the light fixtures that have survived. Only because my husband unscrewed them enough so they never made contact in the first place.

I should have known our marriage would have some conflict of interest when I first found my beloved in his bachelor’s pad, living in the dark. I wondered: was he out of light bulbs? Was he struggling to pay his electric bill? Or… was he lonely?!

Every night, as the sun sets in the west, my husband transforms into what I fondly refer to as the Light Nazi. His energy savings expertise doesn’t stop with lighting fixtures, though. Any unmonitored device that keeps the electrical meter spinning has the potential to become a target. His evening inspection begins when he returns home from a day at work.

I try to set the stage for a pleasant evening. “Hi dear, how was your day?” If he responds with, “wonderful,” that’s clearly a bad sign. I find myself performing a mental walkthrough of our home, spot-checking my husband’s electrical hot spots. Laundry room lights. Bathroom lights. Thermostat setting. Fans. Televisions. Cable boxes. Every. Single. Light. In the house.

These evaluations can be a little unnerving. I hear his steel-toed leather boots pound across the floor. They skid slightly in the dining room, where I know he’s checking the thermostat. The pounding continues through the home with doors creaking open. Sometimes slamming shut.

If I manage to get past the assessment stage of the evening with no wasted power violations, we typically burrow into a nesting, relaxed evening of television viewing. You can bet we’ve got the biggest flat screen TV available, complemented by the latest surround sound system to provide the best possible entertainment. I’m perplexed, though, why those power-sucking energy sources are approved for continuous use! I’m not going to actually ask him about it, though. I kind of like having it around.

I have to keep on my toes as we coexist in our darkened environment. If I turn the staircase light on to make safe passage to the upstairs bathroom, it can get ugly if I forget to turn it off once I’ve returned. Those times, I am reminded by a shrill whistle and an aggravated nod of his head, directing me toward my latest offense.

And don’t get me started on Christmas lights. The power-draining tinkle lights, along with those inflatable decorations, have got to be the cause of one in ten divorces today. I’m sure it was probably a marriage counselor who came up with the Outdoor Electrical Timer. My husband would probably install them inside the entire house if it seemed feasible. Thank God he’s not a fan of computer and cell phone technology.

In all fairness, I understand that I may be slightly free-spirited when it comes to spreading the light. But here’s the deal… there was a time when I was kind of a scaredy-cat to be in my big house alone. My vivid imagination would make the wind lapping against the worn wood siding sound like Freddy Krueger’s footsteps in any one of the vacant second-floor bedrooms. I’ll never forget when someone made the remark that my house always looked like it was lit up like a Christmas tree. I took that as a compliment.

In his attempt to create an alternative power source, I’m guessing the male species founded the battery. In today’s world, you can buy a battery-powered version of almost everything you use on a daily basis. Starting, of course, in the man’s workshop. But all I’m going to say about that is, have you seen the price tag on some of those specialty batteries? I mean, I’m not one to start problems, but what the heck?! I could light our house up like a Christmas tree for a month for the same cost as most of those cutting-edge batteries!

If there has been one thing I’ve learned through my marriage, it is this: My husband cannot be wasteful. I do honestly believe this quality is worthy and should be respected as such. Yet, finding our balance in the dark evenings of winter has been a struggle. But I guess, for my part, at least I am thankful I don’t have to be frightened anymore.