I love that story! Sounds like my wife when I brought our fan home; she looked it over, commented on its rather homely appearance...and then placed in on top of the piano.
I stared blankly for a moment. "Honey...what do you expect it to do over there?"
She replied "I think this will give us the best airflow, sort of across the room...it turns on automatically, right?"
Okay. I left it there for a few days, listening to her grumbling about its inertial stillness. Then, wordlessly, while we were reading in the quiet living room one evening, I got up and casually moved it to the woodstove, where it of course spun to life. As I returned to my chair, she piped up "Hey! Are you sure that will be okay there? It's pretty hot..."
I stopped dead in my tracks, my back to her. By a supreme effort of willpower, I remained silent; after a moment, I continued to my chair and settled back in. Using the highly developed peripheral vision that only long-married men ever master, I saw her glare at me...at the fan...at me...and then I watched the realization hit her like a fresh crow turd hurtling down from a summer sky. I swear that she actually jolted. Then, with slow silent venom..."you knew all this time..."
I lost it. I started laughing so hard the dog leaped down and ran over to check on me.
Silence reigned for the rest of the evening, and through much of the next morning...but somehow I was able to power through...
