I fibbed when I said that the USPS was my new BFF. The truth is that my BFF is the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I loveitloveitloveit. What I love even more than the fan is the remote control to operate it.
Last year when we needed to replace the ceiling fan, Checkered came home with this extraordinarily large fan and a remote. I laughed and laughed and teased him about our laziness. Why, with the fan almost directly over our bed, would we ever need a remote to operate it? All we would need to do was what we had always done before: reach up and pull the little chain thing.
Besides our inherent laziness, I was concerned about the size of the fan. It took up a large part of the ceiling and I envisioned the worst. I knew that at some point in the darkest night, I would turn that fan on and be immediately sucked up by the wind and flung about the room. I was a little comforted by fact that I am not the best housekeeper and there were sufficient clothes lying around the floor to cushion my fall should my fears come true.
Well, let me tell you something. I have fallen in love. I love that little remote, and don't even try to take it to your side of the bed ever again, Checkered.
I get very cold when I am tired, so I wisely layer up and add a cacoon of blankets. Then, a couple of hours later, I awake in a summer-like sweat. Hark! Is that my little BFF, the fan remote, just an arm reach away?
One hour later, the fan's current has indeed spun me mercilessly about the room, but I am cooler, so down one speed goes the fan courtesy of the remote.
5:30 and Checkered awakens and Caution pretends not to awaken, but because she already has, her body temp immediately goes up and the remote is called into action again to speed up the fan.
At 6:00, a child will find his way groggily into Checkered's vacated warm side of the bed, but the child will be cold. What to do?
I think you know the routine now.
Thank-you, Checkered, for the massive ceiling fan with remote. I love you almost as much as I love the remote.