I have a ceiling fan phobia. Last night – during our random 82 degree Spring day before it returns to 60-something tomorrow – I crawled into bed early for yet another morning shift (work and running are the two major reasons I’ve been MIA lately…I’m just a lump of nothin’ otherwise). It was that suffocating sort of hot in our bedroom, Joe refused to turn on the air just yet, so I opened every window upstairs and lay down with one leg out, one leg under the sheet (you know you do it too!). I tossed, I turned, I somersaulted, I couldn’t get any kind of comfortable.
Just as I was about to give up and jump into a cold shower with pillow in hand, I looked up, the sweat leaking into my eyes blurring the view to the ceiling fan I’d forgotten about. There’s one in almost every room of the house, and we haven’t made use of one yet. I was hoping a thick layer of dust wouldn’t fly from each blade and rain down on me in a fluffy gray snowfall….but I was even more concerned about one thing:
I’m convinced ceiling fans are out to get me. I thought this one in particular would be whipped from the ceiling and come flying down onto my head, chopping off various body parts and ruining my bedspread. And I was just too tired to have to stitch myself back together. But – the heat getting the better of me – I decided to suck it up and pull the cord, bringing the fan to a slow hum as it turned and turned.
There wasn’t any gray snowfall; that was nice. It wasn’t making much noise…a good sign. But I still couldn’t help climbing out of bed just hours before I had to be up for work to turn the light on then off then on again, staring at the blades to see if they were shaking. I lay back down, blankets off, still staring at the ceiling…into the face of my impending death.
I got up again and pulled the cord a few more times, bringing the fan to a halt.
I wandered into the other room, found the standup fan, and plugged it in. Ahh, relief.
I told the best friend about this phobia today, as we sit in the currently stuffy living room, eating lunch. She laughed at me, of course, but I tried to explain the serious danger of an improperly working ceiling fan! A wasp flew by the window and I closed it, deciding to test out the dining room ceiling fan, which was directly above where she sat.
I pulled the cord once and the fan immediately began to rattle and shake, trying its best to free itself of the wires and bolts that held it secure!
“SEE!” I shouted while she laughed, looking terrified. “SEE! THIS IS WHY I’M AFRAID OF CEILING FANS!” Seriously. My day will come. I feel it.