Editorial
Front Page - Friday, May 7, 2010
Are We There Yet?
Fan club
Jay Edwards
Not long ago I was told that it was home improvement day. The 80s ceiling fans and their ugliness had to go. She had lived with six of them the past five years and they had to come down. I had already removed the one in the den and replaced it with a contemporary beauty. That project took about five hours. Kathy went to a movie that day, to get away from me. She claims I tend to yell during home improvements.
That was one of my projects that actually worked out; nevertheless, the decision was made to replace the three fans in three of the bedrooms with light fixtures rather than new fans. This was decided for many reasons, not the least of which was my aching back. But our master bedroom had to have a fan, so it was back to Home Depot where I chose a Hunter. Can’t beat a Hunter, right?
I got it home and set it in the garage, with every intention of installing it the next day, a Saturday.
Five Saturdays later, tired of still seeing the unopened Hunter box dustily resting in the same corner of the garage, I picked it up and headed up to the bedroom. Six hours or so later it was hung, and, I must say, it looked great; another home improvement project complete.
I was feeling pretty good about myself as I went outside to turn the breaker back on. From there it was back to the bedroom for the test. I flipped the wall switch. Nothing. My beautiful new ceiling fan was behaving more like a Hog basketball fan – very quiet. No reason to panic yet however. It was obvious the chain just needed to be pulled, which I did.
But still no movement, not even a twitch. I pulled on the chain again, then again and again. Still nothing. Suddenly I hated home improvements, and homes in general for that matter.
All of that took place back in January. During those long days of winter I would, every now and then, flip the wall switch as I passed, or pull on the dead fan’s chain, with some small hope that the blades would jump to life and spin just as they were meant to; that perhaps Hunter, the greatest name in ceiling fans, had some sort of regenerative powers that kicked in long after the amateur electrician had thrown in the towel. So I would flip the switch and hope, like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation, but it was never to be.
After watching the unmoving blades hang above my head every night, and then again every morning when I woke up, I at last decided to try and fix the problem (Not that I had any idea what it was). So last Sunday I grabbed some screwdrivers and began the exploratory project of undoing my home improvement, to hopefully find where I’d gone wrong.
At last, after spending two hours and finding I’d done everything right (thank you very much), I boxed the pieces of Hunter into the box, packing it carefully, and as correctly as I could remember after five months.
I got to Home Depot about 1:30 in the afternoon last Sunday for my “receitless return.” The merchandise return line was out the door. ‘More Hunter victims,’ I thought.
I stood there about two minutes and bailed, planning to return the next morning, which I did. There was no one in the return line at 8:30 Monday morning, hardly anyone in the store for that matter. I told the lady why I was there.
“Do you have a receipt,” she asked.
“No, and I looked everywhere.” This wasn’t totally true, because if I had looked everywhere I surely would have found it.
“How did you pay for it?” she asked.
“With my Home Depot card,” I perked up, thinking that would surely help.
I handed her my card.
“Did you buy this in the last thirty days?”
“Well, no. It’s been a bit longer than that. Uh, I’ve been looking for the receipt.”
She stared at her computer and at last said, “Here it is.” Then she printed out a credit for the dead fan and handed it to me with my card.
“Thank you very much. Want to help me install it?”
“Have a nice day,” she smiled.
It had all happened so fast I decided to do some fan shopping. Home Depot has a pretty good selection and I began looking them over. It wasn’t long that I spotted the same Hunter I’d just returned, but I couldn’t bring myself to try it again. I made a choice and headed to work.
So tonight, it’s more home improving. I better call Kathy and tell her to pick out a movie.
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