I'd like to introduce my new nemesis: the remote control for our bedroom ceiling fan. We were all excited to find a kit that turns ceiling fans into remotely controllable items on our Saturday trip to Lowe's Home Improvement Superstore. Alex endured the installation of kit and new fan without swearing, which was a great feat. We were delighted with the new light it sheds on our bedroom. I was even excited about our ability to turn the light and fan on and off without getting up. Such ability is a great boon to a pregnant woman of my size.
Then, when we went to bed, it happened. (Cue B-Horror film music) My dear Alex, whom I love with all my heart, turned into a twelve-year-old boy (without the bad smell) who had to turn the fan to every level and watch it change to the correct speed. He also turned the light on and off. And on and off. And on and off.
Innocent voice, "Oh, were you reading honey? Well, I'll just turn the light back on."
I turn my lamp on. He turns the light off.
More honeyed innocence: "Oh, I'm going to read now. I guess I'll just turn the light back on."
And so it went two nights ago and last night. Until (mwa ha ha ha) I discovered, while Alex was already in bed, that I can turn the light and fan off at the switch, rendering the remote control entirely useless. Ha ha! He was very disgruntled.