I had to finally break down and buy a little fan for my desk at work. For whatever reason, the sunlight hits my window just right around 3:00 in the afternoon and my office suddenly becomes like a boiler room. Even with the shade down. Ugh. No bueno. It has a tendency to make it feel all stuffy, and not even my awesome Scentsy candle helps. Thus I plunked down the money and got a fan. So far, it’s heavenly.

It reminded me of the last time that I had bought a fan for a workplace. I was working at our local library at the time, and the air conditioning didn’t always function properly back in our area. While I didn’t have enough counter space to set up a regular fan like the rest of my co-workers, I did have a whole wall of shelf space that contained all of my cases for processing. (I tore apart the CDs and audio/visual stuff that came through the library and put them into durable plastic cases. It was pretty fun.) Anyway, I found this awesome fan with a clip that I could use to hang it from the bottom shelf. Since it was black and hung upside down I called it…the Batfan. I know. You think it’s epic, too.

Then we had a string of petty thefts at the library because some of the neighbor kids figured out that they could squeeze through one particular window in the kitchen that didn’t latch properly. It started out with small stuff. Someone would walk in and ask if anyone had seen their mug. Or pen. Or whatever. You kind of dismissed it, thinking they had probably just misplaced whatever they were looking for. Then one of my co-worker’s had her CD player and all of her Disney music stolen. (She loved listening to the greatest hits compilations of Disney music. Because she’s awesome like that.) Then the most tragic of them all – I walked in and realized that they had stolen my Batfan. No other fans had been taken, just mine.

*sniffle* I still miss Batfan. But in a way, his legacy lives on in my new fan. It’s smaller, so I have dubbed him Robin, the Fan Wonder.

(Yes, I name inanimate objects. Why are you looking at me like that? I haven’t even told you about Lord Eryk McFarley Typington III, Esquire. Yes, he was a typewriter. Now you’re giving me that funny look again. Stop it.)