If you've ever lived in the South, you know the value of a ceiling fan. No amount of central air conditioning can slay the heat on it's own. It requires the assistance of the mighty fan - circulating it's cooling goodness throughout the room.
To be quite honest, even I didn't realize the full value of the ceiling fan until last week: When my less-than-spectacular new maid killed my poor little innocent fan. What it did to incur her wrath, I will never know. But it must have done something horrendous, because she made certain it would never rotate on it's shiny nickel-plated axis again.
So, night after night, I've laid in the sweltering heat and stiffling humidity of the Deep South. Air conditioning cranked down to 65. Comforters and sheets thrown haphazardly onto the floor. Anything resembling clothing abandoned. Hair tied firmly in a knot atop my head. Praying for the Ceiling Fan Gods to bring my fan back to life or for my maid service to cough up the $200 for the new fan they've promised to purchase and install, all to no avail.
I can see I'm going to have to visit the dreaded Wal-Mart and purchase temporary relief in the form of a standing, oscillating fan.
What an attractive piece of decor! I can't wait to display it in the center of my bedroom. Ah, the joy. Traditional Homes should be calling any moment.