As I worked from home yesterday, grateful for a prearranged telecommuting day that saved me from the commute/unscheduled leave dilemma in a DC-style WEATHER! EMERGENCY!, I intercepted Jorge and the crew as they came in to check on the window they had to replace a couple of weeks ago.

(I don’t mean to sound like I’m forever busting up my home. This window got cracked during the one of the summer windstorms —  I didn’t even see it as first because I was traveling so much at the time. And they waited a good six months to fix it. But I digress…)

Jorge caught me up on his efforts to get me pretty kitchen lights that also work when I want them to. He tried to get a set of the dining room track lights, but they only make a three-light set now. I think I must have looked ready to settle — because that little bulb above the range is inadequate for sauce simmering and saute practice — but Jorge was having none of it.

“You need more light than that in the kitchen.” Jorge told me. He’s right, of course. And there’s only one electrical opening in the ceiling, so putting two sets in isn’t an option.

He shared with me his frustration that the fact that the distributor will only sell to the vendor, but the vendor won’t stock what Jorge needs for my kitchen and won’t sell the parts as willingly as it will sell the whole units.

The solution, he says, is to have them make a special order to make sure I get four bulbs, just like my dining area. And he firmly believes that I should not have to pay for this, because it is not my fault the wiring in the building can’t handle Pretty.

Jorge is my new BFF, y’all. I sincerely trust that he will not let me eat peanut butter sandwiches and take-out forever.