October 19, 2007
When I was a boy, I thought our thermostat was a religious icon.
It was located on the white stucco dining room wall just inches from a painting of the Last Supper.
Never touch the thermostat, my dad warned my brother, sister and me as he pointed to the golden globe with the white dial in the middle.
He never explained why, and we didn't dare ask.
I grew up and left home without ever laying a finger on that thermostat for fear it would explode if I ever touched it.
When I got my first utility bill I understood why my dad was so protective of the thermostat. Adjusting the dial to the left meant a cooler home. To the right meant a higher gas bill.
The math still works today. That's why, come winter, I can't keep my hands off the thermostat.
Just like my dad, I want to keep heating costs under control. I curse each time I hear the furnace kick on.
But each time I move the thermostat dial to the left, Julie, my wife of 22 wonderful years this Friday, moves it to the right.
Neither of us has actually spied the other move the dial.
When I leave for work, I adjust the thermostat to a brisk 65 degrees.
She says she comes home to find icicles forming on the kitchen sink faucet. She kicks up the heat to somewhere north of 70.
When I get home from work I feel like I've stepped onto the set of a movie being shot in the desert. It's so hot I can feel sand in my shoes.
On weekends, Julie will notice the house getting a little cooler. “You turned down the heat, didn't you?” she scowls.
Not me, I respond, secure in the knowledge that she has no witnesses to prove her claim.
As soon as I leave the room, I can hear the whoosh of the furnace turning on. I immediately feel sweat beads forming on my brow.
Julie and I each have a different tolerance for heat and cold, but it depends on whether we are inside or out. In 20-degree weather, Julie won't wear a jacket, just a sweater, gloves and a scarf. That's her idea of bundling up. Inside, she layers herself with blankets.
When I venture out into the cold, I wear a hat and gloves, zip my coat to my neck and turn up the collar. At home, I peel off layers of clothing.
Julie claims that our sparring over the thermostat actually costs us money as the furnace tries to catch up to our whims. I did some research and learned I was right, but only by pennies. Let's call it a draw.
So will we ever find a comfort zone we can both enjoy? Probably not.
Even with Julie’s newly developed hot flashes, there’s no compromise. One minute she’s boiling hot, throwing the covers off the bed. The next minute she is freezing cold. My body chemistry is usually the opposite. For instance, we were caught in the rain the other day while out shopping, and she took refuge in our car while our son Thomas and I stopped in a store to check something out. Ten minutes later, Thomas and I were heading back to the car. I just opened the door and felt this blast of heat. She saw my face and just started laughing.
She had set the car heater to 80!
Now we have a new battleground.
Comments
femail (anonymous) says...
It seems all the happily married couples I know have this same battle. Maybe we need a reason to snuggle.
November 1, 2007 at 6:32 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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