I live in the dark much of the time. This, thanks to the Light Nazi.

The Light Nazi - a.k.a. The Husband - has the best of intentions. He wants to lighten the load on the power grid. He wants to save on the electric bills. He wants to do the responsible thing.

He didn't always.

Back in the day, he didn't really mind if every light in the house was on - along with the washing machine, the computer, the coffee pot, the slow cooker and the dishwasher - even when the house was occupied by four people, all of whom happened to be playing Monopoly in the same room.

But then the proverbial light went on. And let's just say, he's changed.

Today, it will not be uncommon for me to leave the kitchen momentarily - to visit the bathroom or the laundry room, say - and return to find the room in darkness.

"Why did you turn off the lights?" I will ask.

"No one was in the kitchen," the Light Nazi will say. "We can't leave the lights on in empty rooms."

"I was gone for 45 seconds," I will point out. "I was planning to return."

"Forty-five seconds is 45 seconds," he will reply.

Whenever I leave any room in the house, in fact, the Light Nazi will tend to be at my heels, flipping off the switch. Sure, the power grid's smiling. But I'm not - especially when I'm attempting to navigate a staircase in the dark.

Then there's the old home security thing.

"We need to leave a light on," I will inform the Light Nazi when we are heading to work together.

"Why?" he will ask. "There'll be no one at home."

"Exactly!" I will say. "Do we really want all those burglars to know that?"

Eventually, of course, the Light Nazi will tend to give in, but only after I'm forced to explain that flashlights won't do the trick and that candles would be a tad dangerous.

I get this, I really do. The Light Nazi is trying to do his little bit to help the environment.

As for me? I plan on jumping on the bandwagon soon - sometime when he doesn't expect it.

The next time he's watching football, and heads to the fridge for a beer, I'm going to give him the greatest surprise. I'll turn off his precious TV.