Death of a Fan

I am sad and dismayed that this day has finally arrived. After 6 years, this......

has finally died. My fan has died.

Sleep has never been my friend. Insomnia being a continuous and ongoing factor in my life I was delighted to have discovered the beauty that is white noise. I stumbled upon the fan in hopes of cooling my bedroom in the hot summer months and discovered that its purposes were multiple. It kept me cool and drown out the noisy silence that would often wake me in the night, sabotaging any semblance of a good nights sleep. I could no longer sleep without it.

After B and I got married, he quietly protested the use of my fan for a week or two until he himself was coaxed into slumber by that wonderful white noise. He is as hooked as I am.

Two months ago, the fan's motor starting making this awful, sickening grinding noise when I turned it on. I knew the end was close. But I managed to coax 60-some-odd nights of use out it by fiddling with the wires, turning it upside down, and basically beating the thing until it produced my desired noise. But last night....it was no more. After 6 years, 11 moves, and every night usage the fan has finally died.

I have had to revert to the back-up fan, a much larger version of this same fan with a sound that resembles more that of a turbo jet engine than a fan. But I need my fan. I really do.

Why so sentimental that I would devote an entire blog post to it? I really have no idea. But I am really that sad about it.


(And for the record....I have cleaned the fan about a bazillion times, but it only takes about 3 days for it to look like this again. I'm not gross, I swear it.)