I can’t live without electric fans. If I had my way (and if they weren’t so ugly) I’d have ceiling fans in every room. Last year I splashed out on this new Rowenta, intending it to replace the old faithful one I’d had for about twenty years, in the end held together by by twist ties and luck, until that luck finally ran out. Originally destined for my bedroom (and I did try it there) it was better suited for the living room, mostly because it didn’t have a timer and I don’t always want or need it going all night. Also it’s more attractive and I see it all day there (unlike in my bedroom).
Out of the two other identical bedroom fans bought years ago, Peter’s had begun sounding like a turbo jet engine, which he dealt with last summer by sleeping on his good ear. So this year he has inherited mine (which is totally fine, so far) and I’ve got this new one. Silent AF! With a timer. It also oscillates all over the damn place, not a feature I’m interested in, so side-to-side mode for me. But you know, with all these electronic features I expect it to conk out long before my old faithful one did, or even before the newer Rowenta (which just has a quaint three-speed dial, nada más).
Now waiting for handyman Luis to come over to do the annual filter cleaning on the AC unit. And then, fingers crossed, all is set for the summer HEAT.
casa azahar 