Anyone I have ever lived with will tell you that I am a freak about lighting. The first thing I do when I get home is turn off all the overhead lights and flick on every lamp in the apartment. Something about the recessed lighting beaming down mercilessly from above makes me anxious: it reminds me of the terrible fluorescent lights embedded in drop-down ceilings at work, which give everyone a sad pale sheen and seem to emphasize forehead grease.
