Full confession: I’m a little light sensitive and I sometimes have issues with impulse control. I never imagined the combination would get me in such trouble… After serving for decades as public-school educators, my wife, Mimi, and I are retired; we have a good life together. Our kids are out of the house and independent, we have three grandchildren close by, and two rescue dogs. On most nights, we enjoy a leisurely dinner together. Mimi’s a great cook!

The problem began a few months ago when our across-the-street neighbors installed these motion-activated lights pointed directly at our dining room window. Every time a person walks by, or a car drives by: WHAM, the light’s activated, we’re temporarily blinded, and I get really irritated.

So, the right thing to do would be to have a friendly conversation with the neighbors, explain the predicament… ask for an adjustment: of the intensity, the sensitivity, the angle of the light, but I never think about the light until I’m hit with it, and that’s when I’m in the middle of dinner.

Anyway, one night, I’m out walking my dogs by our neighbors’ house, when WHAM! I’m hit with the spotlight. It’s 9:30, too late to knock on their door, so… I decide to take matters into my own hands. Did I mention I have issues with impulse control?

Wyatt, Lola, and I creep up their driveway, directly into the blinding light. Anyway, I grab that light with both hands and pull down on it. It was really stuck, but with a little elbow grease, I get it to move, until it’s perfect. Maybe I should pull it down a little further, so I don’t have to come back, and that’s when I hear this loud CRACK. It sounded like I’d just broken someone’s arm.

I didn’t know what to do… So, I ran full speed, to the safety of my home. Wyatt and Lola love the unexpected burst of energy. When I get inside, Mimi knows something’s wrong. I’m all out of breath. I tell her, “I’m in it deep.” And I replay my thinking and actions. Mimi becomes the summarizer: “So you walked on someone’s property, who you don’t know, without permission, and you broke their new light.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

Then she becomes the fixer. You remember The Wolf from Pulp Fiction who ‘s called on to help John Travolta and Samuel Jackson after they shot someone in the head, inside their friend’s car? Like that. Mimi says: “Tomorrow morning you’ll go to their house and knock on their door. If they’re not home, you’ll leave a note, take responsibility. You apologize. And you tell them you’re gonna make it right.”

And at that very moment, I look out the window and see our neighbors walking out their front door… with a purpose. I run across the street, waving my arms like a madman!

“Hey Neighbors! Hi, I’m Fred. I live across the street. I did a bad thing. Your light was blinding me every time a car drives by and I tried to adjust it, and… I broke it.”

“You came on our property without permission and broke our light? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. It was stupid. I’m sorry. I’ll fix it or I’ll pay to have it fixed. Whatever you want. I’m so sorry.”

“We’ve already called the police.” That was a lie.

I channel my inner Mimi and apologize over and over again. I give them my cell number and then…  shuffle back home.

But the story doesn’t end there. While I’m trying to slow my heartbeat, Mimi’s doom-scrolling, enjoying the latest rant… on NextDoor. She turns to me and says, “Guess what. You’re famous.” And she shows me a picture of my contorted mug, wrestling with the light, My accomplices are by my side, their tails a blur. They’re so cute. But the caption reads: “Do you know this sick man, this vandal? He was trespassing on our property and destroyed our security light. Who knows what he’s planning on doing later tonight?”

And just like that, my reputation was destroyed. I’d never be able to walk my dogs or show my face in public again. Thank God I was no longer serving as a school superintendent, or I could be fired for moral turpitude; it’s in the Ed Code!

I spend a sleepless night, thrashing around, trying to figure how I can get my neighbors to remove the post.

When I crawl out of bed in the morning, I click on NextDoor and I’m relieved to see my picture’s gone. They must have posted it before receiving my apology. I later figured out the light wasn’t broken at all, I’d merely separated it from the housing; they just needed to click it back in place, which they did. They even adjusted the sensitivity.

I walk by my neighbors’ house all the time, hoping to cultivate a friendly relationship with them. But I’ve never seen them out and about, and I’m too embarrassed to walk up that long driveway and knock on their door, even in broad daylight.