The Ceiling Fan Debacle

Last night, it was so hot in our bedroom. Even with the windows open, and a hurricane-type breeze outside, the air seemed stagnant in the room. Mike and I argue all the time about the ceiling fan. I want it on all the time, even in the winter, to keep the air circulating in the room. He, on the other hand, does not like the air moving. Says it makes it hard to breath. We are constantly playing a game to see who gets their way, every night. I get up and turn the fan on while he sleeps. He gets up later and turns it off while I sleep. It goes on and on throughout the night.

The game has come to an end, though, because last night Mike broke the fan. He says it wasn't on purpose, but I know that isn't true. He never like that fan, and took the first opportunity to put an end to it. He grabbed that cord for the last time, pulling with all his might, yanking it from inside the fan motor. He pulled the cord so hard that when it broke free, the end came and hit me in my forehead, waking me from a deep sleep. I wake up to find him standing in the middle of the bed, holding the broken cord in his hand, a look of shock and fear on his face.

As the fan came to a slow stop, I realized what he had done. It's 2am, the middle of the night, remember. Wide-eyed, I hissed, "You did that on purpose!" and I whacked him with a pillow.

Of course he denied it. I'm not buying it. What I am buying is a new ceiling fan. One with longer blades, that turns twice as fast as the old one. THAT will teach him to mess with me and my fan!