1. It’s Arizona here so that means that for fifteen months of the year I go to sleep with the ceiling fan on. Or at least I used to until earlier this year when I woke up one morning with a mild case of vertigo that knocked me on my ass. The ceiling fan didn’t cause it, certainly, but as I laid flat on my back, eyes tightly shut to the spinning blades above me, I decided that it didn’t help it either.
So sometimes I’ll run it ever so briefly and then kill it until I wake up four hours later with my collarbone submerged in sweat. But after I kill the fan, if the air conditioner also happens to be running at that moment, the circulating breeze from the vent is enough to continue pushing the ceiling fan a while longer. Like, another fifteen minutes. And I will lay flat on my back again and watch the wooden starfish arms twirl above me lazily and I’ll wonder… is a ceiling fan just a mobile for adults?
2. As part of a rewards program at work I will occasionally be told the names of customer’s children and as someone with two siblings I am frankly appalled at how many people attempt to pull of a naming scheme. Usually this is in the form of alliteration — Jason, Jill, and James or Brad, Beth, and Bobby.
Recently I was confronted with my favorite — an almost Ducktales-ian trio of children:
Jayden, Cayden, and Brayden.
Someone buy these kids their Junior Woodchuck Guidebook right now.