Heating and Venting

Excuse me, readers. Can I just vent for a minute, please? Duh. Of course I can...it's MY blog...

Is it just me? Am I just getting old? Is my blood thinning?

I am SO TIRED of being COLD!

I can deal with the outside temps dipping below freezing a dozen or so nights in the season. (Yes, I said a dozen. I live in North Florida, people.) Though I'd rather not have to deal with the "4 Ps", as my local weathermen so often call it, I will buck up and take it like a Real Woman if I must. I'm getting much faster at dawning my Payless Ugs and wool coat over my pajamas as I grab my trusty yellow flashlight and scurry out to drip the faucets and cover my few surviving potted plants.

I can deal with making a point to rush out and start the car up twenty minutes before I need to leave for school in the morning so it will be a steamy 76 degrees before my girls and I have to load up. Thank you to my oh-so sophisticated car thermostat and heater!

I can tolerate my Big Girl's mental meltdowns and emotional breakdowns every morning as she climbs in the car on days with temperatures 60 degrees or less. I also can tolerate the struggle my Little Girl puts up every darn day that we ask her to wear a jacket. I can plan my wardrobe to always include a light jacket so I do not turn into an icicle in my classroom each and everyday of the entire school year. (Thank you ever so much, Mr. School District Man, for taking away the school's rights to control their own heating and cooling systems.)

What I cannot understand is why my darling Fire Daddy is SO insistent that 65 degrees is a reasonable temperature at which to set your home thermostat. I cannot understand why it is acceptable for me to be forced to dress like a bag lady at 3 o'clock in the afternoon in my own home. I cannot understand why one warm-natured man gets to control the thermostat while three other residents suffer from frost-bitten fingers and toes.

I also cannot understand how two people can sleep in the same room and in the same bed at night, yet one requires an extra blanket, socks, long pants, long-sleeved shirt, and a hoodie sweatshirt, while the other sleeps in nothing but his underoos and needs to stick a leg out from under the covers to keep from getting too warm.

I also don't understand how, a mere handful of years ago, I was just as warm as he was.

I've got to wonder...is this another little favor for which I should thank my Heroine Hormones? Golly, girls. Thanks a lot.