10:00. Scott gets home. "What is that?"
10:24. Scott removes the face of the fan, thinking it is a rubbing noise. Dust blows all over our bedroom.
10:27. Scott pours olive oil over the fan.
10:31. "Lorren, will you run down to the car and get the belt conditioner?"
10:34. The bedroom is now steamy and filled with poisonous fumes. And hellish screeching.
10:57. Scott grabs a hammer and gives the fan a couple of solid whacks. I yell out, "That is such a man thing to do! 'Let's just hit a couple of times and see if it works!'"
10:58. An eerie silence descends on our apartment as we wait, breathlessly, to see if the fan will begin wailing again.
10:59. I humbly apologize.
11:02. We go to sleep with the fan (silently) blowing blissfully cold air over us.