|When we’re not fighting over the thermostat, I like to get a few kisses in.|
I’m a big girl and I live in Southern California, so I don’t get cold too often.
I welcome the chilly temps. I embrace the cool, brisk air. I like when it gets “nippy’ outside.
That said, I see little to no reason why we need to turn on the heater. Now, don’t get me wrong–I love me a good space heater. And I can’t hate on the occasional hot air blasting on your back right as you step out of the shower on a frigid morning (we have hardwood floors too, so it’s like walking on ice). But too much of a good thing is just not a good thing.
Case in point. This morning I woke up with a start, a layer of sweat glistening on my face. I peeked over at the nightstand and it read 4:41. My cheeks were flushed and to be totally honest, I felt a twinge of “the crazy”.
A heater that’s been blasting all night will do that to a budget-conscious fat girl.
I look over at my husband who was snoring peacefully–and he’s so handsome when he’s asleep–but I had to resist the urge to smother him with my pillow in the name of Jesus. This is what we do, ya’ll. It’s called Thermostat Wars and as of today, he’s winning.
You see, I grew up in a house where my mother never turned the heater on. It’s like a morgue in there. She is in her 60’s now and she’s finally softened up enough to turn it on every so often. Dealing with a cold house is normal to me. It just means you suit up–sweats, a hoodie, socks and slippers. If you’re watching TV, then cuddle with a blanket. It’s really not that complicated. Whenever I observe my husband running to put the heater on, he is usually barefoot, in his boxers, or he’s coming in from working out in the garage and he’s as cold as a popsicle. Well, no wonder you are freezing your nuggets off, you silly man!
But, I’ve gotten smarter over the years. More tactical, if you will. If I hear the familiar click of the heater being turned on, I no longer go ape sh!t like I used to. I don’t nag. I don’t start fights. I don’t scold him. I just patiently wait.
I wait until he’s either not paying attention or he drifts off to sleep. Then I run over and turn it off. Sometimes I’ll get my kids to do my dirty work. Hey kid, I stage whisper, turn off the heater but don’t let your dad see you. When he realizes I’ve turned it off, he yells at me.
“Woman! It is freezing in this house!”
Then he runs over and turns it back on. And then I just wait until it’s time to turn it off without him knowing again. It’s like a game. A game that I will fight until the bitter end. Interestingly enough, we have this same argument in the summer when I’m ready to blast the air conditioning the second it goes a hair past 90 degrees. The tables get turned.
But we’re not talking about me here. We’re talking about my husband’s crazy addiction to the heater.
Waking up in the middle of the night feeling like you’re being cooked in an oven is no fun. But then again, neither is sleeping in an igloo.
And so, the thermostat wars continue.
Do you and your spouse fight over the thermostat like we do?