I'm reading Chief Brad Torgersen's "A Star-Wheeled Sky," and I can't help thinking that this is a subsequent chapter to Robert A. Heinlein's 1942 short story "Goldfish Bowl." If you aren't familiar with that particular work, it's in the collection "The Menace From Earth." I know Baen carried it at one time, not sure now. Anyway, search engines. But that's not what I want to talk about.
If you don't know Southern boys, you might not understand our affinity for fans. Mostly, of course, that comes from trying to sleep at night in the hot, humid air of the Georgia (North Caroline, Mississippi, Texas, etc) summer. However, by the time we are old enough to express an opinion, we NEED a fan on the bedside table, regardless of the outside temp.
And I sure do need one next to my workspace, as I am reading, reviewing, and hanging out with grandson Tre.
You can't see the fan, but it is there.
And mine stopped working. The blades still turned with appropriate velocity, but it wasn't putting out any air. Hence, no cooling breeze.
Fortunately, I have a resource: the local hardware store. This isn't one of the mega-stores, although those are great for buying cheap items if you know what you need. Nope, this is a family-owned and operated hardware store (although part of the Ace Hardware franchise) I've been frequenting since I moved to Woodstock in 1992. And, over the years, I've come to have a great respect and even affection for Mr. Morgan, the gent who runs the store.
I hesitate to say he is a grandfatherly-type, as I happen to be a 14th degree grandfather myself, number 15 on the way, and expect to be a great-grandfather within the next couple of weeks. Let me just say that he has always treated me, my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, kids and grandkids with unfailing courtesy and respect, even when I present him with ridiculous questions about plumbing, electrical and landscaping hassles.
It actually has gone a bit further than that. Over the course of the past 27 years, I guess I've had 30+ people live in my house, some with special needs, and that has presented me with all KINDS of tangled needs to modify my dwelling in some way. Install a hand-rail on the stairs. Expand the capacity of the HVAC system. Replace rotting decks. You get the picture, I hope, because it's making me just a wee bit grumpy and nauseated to think of all the maintenance issues over the years.
At any rate, sometime in the mid 1990s, I learned that I would save a WHOLE lot of time, if I told Mr. Morgan what my problem was, and let him come up with a solution, instead of just asking where I could get a left-handed monkey wrench and a 4'x8' sheet of 1/16" molyglobulose. As a result, I have had a LOT more issues resolved, and I don't have as many molyglobulose fragments stored in the shed.
Not only has he been able to address the hardware issues, he has been an encouragement and support. He never fails to ask about the grandkids when I come in, and there have been a lot of times when his kind words have been far more valuable that the sack of fasteners I wind up purchasing.
So, yesterday, I took my fan in to look for a repair or replacement. I told him about the loss of air flow, and how important it was to me, because I was working diligently at getting these reviews done. And somewhere in there, I told him about how I was working out of the bedroom, because the most recent pain meds I was trying weren't getting the job done, and I couldn't sit in the chair for long periods. And it had gotten so bad, that I simply hadn't even been able to get out of bed to go to church, and I was missing out on things, and I couldn't even enjoy the time I was spending with my grandkids; and how this was a really bad time for even the SMALLEST expenditures, because we had some monstrous medical bills, but I really did need a fan.
Mr. Morgan looked patiently at the fan, and then looked at me. "Pat, you don't need a new fan. What you need to do is clear out the air-flow on this one. Get rid of the dust that's accumulated, and you'll be back in business."
His words hit me like a bomb. In a flash, I got the true significance of when he was saying.
"I get it! " I said excitedly. "Your saying that if I get rid of all the clutter in my life, all the stuff that's getting in the way, that I'm not going to be overwhelmed! I just need to sit down, and work out the budget, and organize my work schedule, and ask for help when I need it, then all the stress and worry will go away! I'll be able to get things done, and be at peace!"
He smiled at me. "You're an idiot. I told you to clean your filthy fan."
So, that's what I did. It worked.
This is the fan, post-cleaning. Works great.
Peace be on your household
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