We got together our most courageous supervisors and gathered war paint. After properly adorning ourselves with as little as the heat would allow, we decorated ourselves in a manner that would appease those that we had angered. Aided with banshee cries and tribal drums, we
threw ourselves at the mercy of the god of luz. We danced and screamed until our throats were raw. We begged and pleaded for the return of the Internet in all of its celestial glory, but to no avail. Then there came a message: all of the members of the household would have to join before we were to be blessed with light. So we gathered our fellow tribeswomen, and as my bloodied hands kept time, we swayed under the tribal sheet, beseeching the powers that be for our beloved luz. And then, like a ray of sunlight, it came, and we rejoiced.