I have a tiny Honeywell fan that runs on high every night. It’s part of my bedtime ritual. Remove my contacts, wash my face, walk into my bedroom and click the Honeywell dial to high. I can’t sleep without the constant noise it makes. Trust me, I’ve tried. But I am an incredibly light sleeper (well, maybe a selectively incredibly light sleeper) and I need some white noise to drown out everything else I would otherwise hear: the clod-hopping girl who lives above me (who, coincidentally, is dating a condo-friend of Dan’s, so Dan took the opportunity to inform the friend to inform his girlfriend that she should learn to walk toe-heel so as not to continue her clod-hopping ways); the clod-hopper’s yippy-ass dog; clicking noises from our refrigerator; or Dan. I also hope to drown out any noises I might make throughout the night. Anyway, I need the fan.
There are nights, however, when the fan is actually counter-productive in helping me fall asleep. Much like tonight, actually. I was cuddling up to my pillow, pulling my favorite comforter up close to me and ready to drift asleep when I heard a noise that sounded like the lock to my door. I laid there for a couple minutes, then realized it was a weird tick in my fan that had caused the noise. Because I’m super paranoid, I got up anyway to inspect the door and any possible place an intruder might hide, only to reassure myself that there wasn’t an intruder. Since I was up, I decided to grab my computer and turn on my bedroom light, just in case any prospective intruders who might have been driving by would see the light on and assume that it wasn’t practical to break in to my condo tonight.
When I lived in my other condo, I could have sworn that I was hearing my cell phone ringing, but after checking my phone, I concluded it was the fan. Then I would hear voices, as if people were in my living room, chatting it up, but again, just my fan. I’ve heard music. I’ve heard animals. I’ve heard sirens. I’ve heard music about animals running from sirens. Now I realize a lot of those noises are figments mostly of my imagination and not my fan, but my fan has this ability to make me think I’m hearing these other noises. And then I become almost more paranoid than I would have been in absolute silence.
My fan is also very cheap, so it doesn’t always work the greatest. Every so often it’ll get a clickity sound that clicks and clacks, but not in any kind of rhythm, so just when you think you know when the next click or clack might come, it doesn’t, and you’re kept awake. My fan’s clickity sounds are nothing compared to the screeching, grinding noises the same model of fan would make for my brother. It sounded like the horrible screeching belt sound of an old car being started. I don’t know if that sound is actually caused by a belt at all, but it just seems like the noise an old, dry car belt would make. Again, I don’t even know if having a non-dry belt in your car is good.
Dan hates the fan. He thinks it’s too loud, which to me is the whole point. He bought a humidifier a few months ago and it ran without making so much as a dripping noise. Completely silent. When we turned it on the first night, I asked what we were going to do for noise. He said the whole point of this model was that it made no noise, as if it was a benefit. I looked at him, puzzled, thinking for a moment, “Does this man even know me? Am I in the wrong relationship?” So we turned the fan on, blowing onto the misty air from the humidifier and all was right with the world again.
Until I thought someone was trying to break into my place. Most likely to steal my fan.