From The Way Too Much Information Dept.

The tubular lighting bulb which normally illuminates our bathroom is, tragically, dead.

It has yet to be replaced despite our repeated entreaties (OK, fine: it was only one entreaty) to YU Housing. This hasn't caused much discomfort during daylight hours (thankfully, an hour later due to DST), but it has led to some interesting lifestyle compromises during those hours when the sun don't shine.

I've recently told several people that I need to conclude the phone talk/g-chat session because I need to shower before it gets dark. This is not some type of bizarro Ramadan: I just wanted to shower with the benefit of light.

We've been forced to resort to all bathroom work by flashlight. Luckily, I purchased, a few years back, one of those Bluetoothesque, hands-free, coal-miner-style, flashlights. It's a wonderfully underrated experience to read The New Yorker by flashlight in the bathroom. More interesting, however, is the act of showering in the dark. It is, simultaneously, the most relaxing thing I have ever done and the most stressful thing I have ever done. I think that the stress will dissipate once I get used to the fact that I can't see how much shampoo I am using. I find myself showering unnecessarily just for the thrill.

Four of the five residents in my apartment are veterans of Camp Moshava and, therefore, shmutzes (one even is a veteran of some foreign army, although I forget which). As far as I can tell, the Moshava veterans have been better off than the fifth man: if nothing else, camp has taught us to be comfortable with our various bathroom functions even while blind.