And it's getting colder. Lows in the teens/20s. Highs in the 30s.
The Little-House-On-The-Corner likes to relate to its environment.
If it's summer, the House is hot. And if it's winter . . . yeah.
The one refuge we have is the bathroom. Therein resides an electric, oil-filled baseboard heater running along under the towel rack.
The bathroom thermostat, a circular knob by the door frame, is "off" at the 6 o'clock position. Why "6"? Why not the usual "12" position Dunno. Time zones, perhaps.
Wake Island is at "12" when we're at "6" so I guess that makes sense horologically. Sort of.
When it is just barely cracked open, an itty bitty smidge past "off", the bathroom goes instantly to 81 degrees. At the "9" position, the place is a sauna. And there's still 270 degrees of thermal degrees left.
Like Death Valley with plumbing.
The transition from hallway to bathroom is like going from the back of a refrigerated truck into a gas station restroom in Florida.
In July.
(Funny what you remember about vacations, eh?)
This morning the heat is not a comfortable feeling. I'm okay with the cold. I've gotten used to the cold. This whole warmth thing is making me pretty uncomfortable. Let's get this over with.
But the longer I'm in here, (which, of course, depends on what's in the Reading Basket under the towels), the more comfortable I'm getting.
Warmth. What a concept, eh?
Techno-Boy is pounding on the door so we change places.
Boom.
The hallway hits me like a walk-in freezer.
Holy freon, Batman.
I really didn't realize how cold I was. You know, now that I got warm.
But 15 minutes and a cup of the Elixir later, I'm back to feeling pretty normal. Back to cold.
But now I'm wondering if that's a good thing . . .