LET THERE BE (CHEAP) LIGHT

Living in an old house is a bit like living in a charming historical reenactment—minus the costumes, plus the inconvenient lighting. My kitchen, for example, has a perfectly fine overhead light that does a fantastic job of illuminating everything except the one place I actually need to see: The kitchen sink. Because why would I want to see what I’m scrubbing off a pan at 10 p.m.?

Of course, installing a proper wired light over the sink would solve everything. But if you’ve been around this blog for more than five minutes, you know my renovation philosophy is “champagne dreams on a tap-water budget”. Paying an electrician to run wires? Absolutely not. I’d sooner wash dishes by candlelight like a destitute Victorian widow.

Then — cue the heavenly choir — I discovered these cordless sconces with rechargeable lights. A pair of them. For under $25. Yes, you read that correctly. Twenty-five dollars. For two lights. At that price, I half expected them to arrive made of cardboard and hope, but no — they were real, functional, and shockingly decent. Click here for the link to these little beauties on Amazon.

Soodmi Battery Operated Wall Sconces

Installation was blissfully simple. If you can hang a picture frame, you can install these sconces. And if you can’t hang a picture frame, well . . . you have bigger problems than kitchen lighting.

Now, I am a world-class procrastinator, a true artisan of avoidance. So naturally, what should have been a 30‑minute project took me an hour. Not because the lights were difficult, but because I spent most of that hour wandering around the house gathering tools, pondering life choices, and stirring dinner. Multitasking is my superpower, though not necessarily my strength.

Once installed, the bulbs needed charging—but they charge fast. So fast, in fact, that I was basking in my new sink spotlight the very same evening they arrived.

And the best part? These little wonders come with a remote. A remote! I can adjust brightness, change the tone of the light, and even set a timer.

So there you have it: for less than the cost of a takeout pizza, I have achieved kitchen‑sink enlightenment. Literally.