Thermostat Wars--er,um, Woes

Three days into 2008 and here I sit, wrapped up like a water pipe in a well house. Reminds me of the good old days when if you didn't wrap the pipes, you had a serious problem on your hands and ended up hauling water 5 gallons at a time from a neighbor's home in sub freezing temperatures. Not fun. And it was even worse if the pipes burst at thawing. Then you were hauling for days until a plumber showed up. If your power lines had snapped from ice forming on them, you had an even longer wait. At times the only saving grace was having gas heat. Especially during that big ice storm about 15 or so years back.

And yes, there were even times when the gas ran out in the dead of winter. What fun. No floor furnace. No oven. No hot water. Assuming your water lines weren't frozen to begin with as stated above. Winters sure were an adventure at our house growing up. To this day I cannot face the frigid temps of January without a bit of trepidation, without saying a little prayer that all my worldy comforts would not fail. Yes, I am grateful for them all, God. I may be spoiled, but I know enough to be grateful for my spoiling.

I am grateful for warm blankets, sweater socks, coffeemakers, and my wonderful central heating and air that keeps the indoor atmosphere a toasty 75 degrees. Yes, you heard me right, 75. Hubby tends to sneak behind my back to adjust it cooler but generally I win--even though he adamantly protests that he can only take off so many clothes and that I can always put more on. Fine, I tell him, run around naked. Don't bother me a bit. You get hot, go the garage for 5 minutes. In 11 years of marriage he has learned that you can't win that argument with me. He who pays the utilities controls the thermostat. Period. End of story.

After all, my fat nubby little digits can't seem to hit the right keys when they are frozen. I get paid by the line. The slower I go, the less I make. You can't type with gloves on, I protest. And besides, do you want to want my Raynaud's to act up? "Raynaud's? Oh, likely story," he guffaws. But it's no laughing matter. Cold causes me pain. Pain causes me to be grouchy. And when I'm grouchy, everyone is miserable. "So there," I reply, "you can sit around with your naked sweaty butt and pout all day, but the thermostat stays put!" And with that I trot back to my lovely office, wrap my blankets around my chubby thighs, warm my fingers on my steaming mug of coffee and get back to my typing--all the while listening for his heavy footfalls in the hall trying to be quiet as he edges toward the thermostat. All I can say is, for his own good, there better be an early thaw.