Scott obsesses about many things: my hair, my capris, taking my time, washing and waxing his car, his coffee machine and grilling paraphernalia.
However, he’s not obsessed with cleaning up after himself, go figure.
I obsess over ceiling fans.
I depend on these whirly things to keep me cool all summer.
Actually, I use them all year long. (I hope you will read my very first blog entry on ceiling fans… then you’ll understand.)
I love to sit under a ceiling fan as I work on the computer, on the porch while enjoying the early mornings with birds chirping and in restaurants that know how to keep customers happy.
My obsession is having the ceiling fans going in the right direction for the time of year.
Scott and I went to the Outer Banks in N.C. over Memorial weekend and stayed in a hotel right on the beach.
When I booked the hotel, we were given breakfast coupons to use there.
Each time we went in the restaurant, I noticed that most of the ceiling fans were going in the counterclockwise direction and those were producing great breezes.
However, a few were going in the wrong direction.
This produced a warm, humid feeling when standing underneath.
It was so bad that the manager placed a standing fan in the area, but it didn’t help much.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to tell the waitress.
She took the advice and Scott glared at me.
The kind of glare that required body armor to survive.
“Why do you have to do that?”
“Because it bothers me, and they needed to know.”
“I don’t care if their ceiling fans are going the wrong way. Let’s just sit down.”
The morning we checked out of the hotel, we went to breakfast in the hotel.
All of the ceiling fans had been turned the wrong direction and when the waitress saw me, she said, “I’m glad you came today. I can’t get anyone to listen to me about changing the ceiling fans. Would you please speak to the manager?”
Scott was doing his glaring thing again.
We sat down and he said, “Don’t you say anything about those ceiling fans.”
“But Scott, I’m dying over here. Look at the sweat on my face. They need to know.”
“Don’t say anything.”
So I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a note.
This way I wasn’t speaking to anyone and I’d still get my message across.
I intended on leaving it on the table.
Scott picked it up, read it, and put it back down.
He didn’t say anything, just glared.
I hate his glare.
When we got up to leave I carried the note to the waitress and she said, “Thank you for doing this. Now they have to listen to me.”
Apparently, I’m not the only one who cares about staying cool.
Take that Mr. Glare.
In case you need a refresher course on ceiling fans, they should turn counterclockwise or to the left in the summer, and then using the switch on the motor housing, turn it to the right or clockwise in the winter. You'll feel better, just don't forget to switch it the next season.
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Have a great day.