It’s times like this where I wish I was able to sleep without a fan. I want so badly to be able to turn out the lights and melt into dream world while listening to the pitter patter of the rain outside. Unfortunately for me I am addicted to the dulling white noise of high powered fans and since the age of 14 haven’t been able to sleep a wink without one.
It is quite possibly the worst addiction I’ve had in my 26.89 years of existence and I don’t want to be Kurt so I’ll be Frank… [lol my personal fave – don’t ask] I don’t see myself attempting to break this addiction. Instead I will continue to purchase fan after fan to keep at my bed until the day I die or go completely deaf. I am hoping the deaf part comes with death but that’s another blog altogether.
See, at night I tend to hyper focus on just about every sound that comes my way. Well that is actually 24/7 but at night its annoying to me to hear pretty much anything, including the melodic sound of raindrops on the roof and the soothing rolling thunder chasing the wind, forces pulling from the center of the earth again I can feel it… wait… and music. All types of music. With the radio I tend to listen to the lyrics. I’ll find myself singing along, thinking to myself about how the lyrics don’t make sense, or I’ll be taken back to a time when… with instrumental pieces or classical music I find myself in Fantasia mode and I imagine great scenes in some magical forest with cupids and centaurs and dragons and shit. Then it’s 4am and I have come up with this whole wildly choreographed scenario and I have no idea who or where I am, then I contemplate calling into work. How do you excuse something like that? “Hello work? Yea, I can’t come in today because my explosive imagination kept me up all night creating a wondrous play land, so I must sleep now”… no. I’m a grown up. That shit just doesn’t fly.
I also tend to find myself wildly irritated with falling asleep to tv or movies. Nope. Not going to happen. You may find me on your couch dozing off to a boring movie or something, but never sleeping. You may even think to yourself, “hey, why are you in my house?”, don’t think.
The worst? When a fan is on it’s last leg and starts to make that tapping noise. You know the noise, where it sounds like there may be a piece of tape stuck to the fan blade somehow, so, with every fucking rotation there is this tap, tap, tap noise. YUK! HOW ANNOYING!!!!! That drives me crazy. I don’t know the how’s or the why’s to that type of situation, I just know that to me that is surely one of the best ways to keep me from sleeping. I find myself laying there in a cold sweat just waiting, anticipating the next tap to happen. Then I hear it and my blood boils. So I lay in silence for the next rotation to come about secretly hoping it will have fixed itself and sure shit, TAP. TAP. TAP. EVERY SECOND ANOTHER TAP!!
I need the soft, smooth hum of a solid fan. Box fans are nice and all for summer when you need to blast air from room to room [for those of us without central air] but not what I look for in a bedroom fan. I like the smaller ones. DONT put a fan in my face or facing my person. Just don’t do it. I hate the feeling of air on my skin while I am trying to sleep. I am actually laughing at myself as I type this because I know how incredibly weird this all sounds but besides the tappa tappa tappa of a sticky fan the one thing that really chaps my ass is something I will now call “wind skin” – when a fan blows air on you while you try to sleep. Ha. It’s the feeling of my hair being caught in said air that is gross to me. I am a hairy gal [by nature and choice] so its not like I can just tie my hair up, no, its ALL my freaking hair. The whole body. I dont’ mind it on a hot summer day at the beach, you know, a lil gust of wind here and there to break up the heat… just not in my bed at 11pm.
I JUST HEARD A NOISE. It sounded weird and I am totally creeped out laying here home alone with this storm.
Speaking of creepy things… I have decided that with this whole war on terror that we should focus more of our attention to the terrorists at home: centipedes. Now, I know the definition of a terrorist doesn’t really apply to centipedes however the word TERROR comes to mind whenever I think of or see the little bastards. Last night I let out a blood curdling scream and ran the flight of steps in my house faster than I ever have before to inform Reed of the danger lurking in the shadows of the bathroom below. By the time he got there to inspect [and destroy] the thing was gone. I was terrified. Reed’s reply “well, if you would have reacted rationally then you would know where it is, dead in the toilet”…. WELL GEE… why didn’t I think of that? Oh, I know! Because to me, the most rational thing to do when facing my mortal enemy is to run and find someone bigger and stronger to fight my battles. Fucking DUH. They have a million legs!
He loves me.