I like it warm–70 degrees warm. This is a pleasant, livable temperature. Mr. Dave likes it cold–65 degrees cold. This, in my opinion, is such a frigid temperature that we could rent out rooms to penguins and polar bears, and even they would, probably, complain to Mr. Dave that it is far to chilly inside our house to live happily ever after…..
Mr. Dave defends his love of refrigerated air by insinuating that it’s me who is the temperature addled one in the family…..
“You are always cold,” is Mr. Dave’s constant harp when I mention I am freezing and suggest that, perhaps, we could up the thermostat just a tad so that the icicles hanging from the ceiling have a chance to melt.”
“Go outside and be warm then,” is Mr. Dave’s heartless response.
“Fine,” I retort. “I will just wait until you go to work and then I will up the darn thermostat to 70 and you can do nothing about it!”
“Go ahead,” Mr. Dave says, “I will just turn it back down when I get home.”
“Go ahead, then,” I snarl back, “but, for the eight hours of your absence, the cats and I will not have to bundle up like a pack of cheerless Eskimos, praying to the Gods of Warm Air to rescue us from this igloo in which we dwell…….”
I wonder how many of you folks reading this have this same ongoing battle? One of you likes the household temperature set at warm and snugly and the other requires an insanely cold atmosphere or life is not worth living.
I expect that there are probably a bazillion ongoing thermostatic battles being fought across this planet on a daily basis. Threats to do bodily harm to one another over how warm the interior of one’s abode is doesn’t sound incredibly improbable at all to me. Of course, I shall remain forever on the righteous side of snugly warm…..