Behold, This Retro Fan! Surviving 90°F in LA and the Price of My Freedom
The thermometer in my Los Angeles apartment hit 90°F today. In this city, that’s usually the cue to blast the AC. But mine stays off. Instead, the only sound is the persistent, low hum of an aging electric fan. To some, this might look like extreme frugality. But to me, it’s about protecting the sanctuary I’ve built. I didn’t just move to LA; I escaped. I fled from the suffocating grip of toxic parents, fighting for every inch of the freedom I have now. The panic disorder, the rheumatoid arthritis, the lingering pain from a car accident—these are the battle scars of a survivor. If I could escape that living hell, I can certainly survive a California heatwave and the grind of reviving a $3.80 AdSense account. Besides, air conditioning is a scam. Sure, it’s cool, but at what cost? In the already bone-dry air of LA, it ruins your skin and leaves your throat raw. Then, to top it off, they hit you with an extortionate electricity bill. There is zero benefit other than temporary comfort. It’...