Ceiling Fans

I realized last night that I am terrified of the ceiling fan. I have yet to switch over from down comforter to quilt, even though it went from winter to HOT in recent months. I sleep with just the sheet, while Shane prefers to roast under the blanket, which causes it to be halfway over me anyway. So, I turned on the fan. But as I lie in bed trying to fall asleep, I hear the fan wobble and squeak as it goes right round like a record player, and I imagine that at any moment, it will suddenly dislodge all of its screws at precisely the same time, sending the blades soaring thru the air, slicing into walls and into my skull. I try to tell myself that the entire idea is preposterous, but it's difficult to be rational when my impending death is spinning around above my own head. I did at least stand on the trunk at the end of the bed to investigate one source of the relentless squeaking; a LOOSE SCREW on one of the glass shades over one of the light bulbs. See? Not so crazy now am I?