When we moved into our new home — a major fixer-upper — I thought it wasn’t cozy because of the arctic-blue painted walls (everywhere) and swirly brown 1970s carpets. And sure, the décor wasn’t helping, nor was the lack of central heating, but the real culprit was lurking overhead.
Every room was wired on a single circuit, which meant one flick of the switch and the bright bulb above flooded the space like a prison interrogation cell. In the kitchen, things got worse. One lone switch powered three long fluorescent tube fittings, and there was no option to dial down the glare.
