Saturday night (well morning about 3:36 according to The Man who looked) we were blissfully sleeping (he was snoring and I was just about finally asleep) when we were viciously attacked from above.  The attack happened with no warning and without any provocation and sent both The Man and I scrambling in different directions.  He up against the bedroom wall on his side of the bed with fists doubled up looking to kill whoever had dared hit him while he slept…with a major flashback to his days as a Marine in wartime.  I was up against the other wall…terrified not only because I couldn’t see (contacts were out) but also suffering from my own flashbacks to a time when I was in an abusive relationship (his ‘what the f**cking hell at the top of his lungs doing nothing to help my situation).

When we both realized that the attacker was an IT rather than a WHO, and that the attack had been accompanied by the sound of a crash and breaking glass, I asked him if he was alright and at his answer….”F**CK NO!” I managed to turn the light on my nightstand on.

We both gazed in astonishment at the face of our attacker.  The ceiling fan above our bed had fallen.  Fallen right on The Man’s ankle.  We cleaned up the glass and he managed to get 2 more hours of sleep before having to go to work.  Did I sleep?  Not one damned wink until about 7 am and then only fitfully…..part of me still back in a time and place that still gives me nightmares.

In the cold light of day the most-mortem on the battered remains of the attacker was conducted.  Now I will readily admit that I am not the most ‘handy with tools’ girl in the entire world but neither am I stupid where mechanical items are concerned.  I looked at the mount on the ceiling.  Looked at the part on the floor which SHOULD go into the mount.  They don’t match.  The angles don’t match up to fit the screws or the holes.  Simple science cannot defy logic, even when it comes to ceiling fans.  Two parts match up and the screw goes thru even I know that….these do NOT match, not in your wildest dreams. 

Upon coming home The Man confirms my findings (he’s installed many a ceiling fan).  Not only do the parts NOT match up, The Man upon further investigation states that the bracket in the ceiling is not the correct one to support the fan, nor are the caps they used on the wires the correct ones.  We’ve no idea what has supported it for so long…it had to be more than 3 little wires but at this point I really don’t care because the frightening reality is that we’ve been sleeping under this ceiling fan for OVER 2 AND A HALF YEARS!   We were talking about re-arranging the bedroom furniture (turning the bed) and had we done so…well the fan would have hit him in the gut, not the ankle. 

Today (Monday) I get to call the woman who collects our rent checks for the owner, to discuss this issue with her.  I’ve taken pictures of both the ceiling mount and the remains of the fan as well as The Man’s swollen and bruised ankle…(thank the Gods it isn’t broken or worse).  I am not looking forward to speaking with her because (although she is a brunette) her nickname between The Man and I is ‘Blondie’.  The woman is every cliché about every blonde ever made.  With my luck her husband will have been the one which installed the damn fan.  *Sigh.