Fixing the fan sheds light on wife's little secret

The only thing that holds a marriage together is the husband being big enough to step back and see where the wife is wrong.

- Archie Bunker

Let me tell you the ending of the story first. There are many phrases, I have noticed, that husbands hate to hear.

Some are well known:

"The car is making a funny noise."

"You know who we haven't visited in a while?"

And, "I think you need to talk to your son."

But one of the most common is when a wife says, "Oh yeah, I meant to tell you about that."

Now let me tell you the beginning.

Last week, I had been working late every night and was getting home when everyone else was in bed.

The house was dark. Now, I don't mind dark. I sort of like it. And I don't find it necessary to turn on every light within reach when I enter a room.

So there I was. I had walked into the den, removed my coat and noticed the room was stuffy. I reached over without turning on the light and cut on the ceiling fan.

A grinding clatter erupted above my head and I was vaguely aware of a dark fluttering presence.

My first thought?

A wounded goose was smacking its wings into the ceiling.

My second thought - inspired, no doubt, by hours of crisis management training seminars - was to do something.

So I turned off the fan and turned on the light.

What I saw was a ceiling fan with a hanging blade. A quick inspection revealed that a screw was missing and the blade had shifted into a less secure position.

Like any resourceful husband, I sought out my collection of 1,001 mismatched nuts and bolts, emptied them on the kitchen table and found five that looked like they'd work.

Tried the first three unsuccessfully. Found a fit on the fourth.

Checked out the fan's other bolts. Found half of them were loose and tightened them.

Then I took a stepladder and screwdriver and checked out several other ceiling fans. I found several loose screws and tightened them all.

I went to bed with that satisfied feeling of accomplishment we middle-age men live for.

"Ceiling fan downstairs was broken," I smugly reported to my wife, "I fixed it."

"Oh yeah," she said, waking up a bit. "I meant to tell ..."

Well, you know the rest.

Women, it seems to me, always keep the wrong things secret.

Reach Bill Kirby at (706) 823-3344 or bill.kirby@augustachronicle.com.