If I had to guess what he’s thinking, I’d say it’s something along the lines of, “Look, we need to talk. Why the hell is it so cold in here? I can’t feel my ears, and if I had balls they’d be frozen solid. Are you trying to ruin my life by making me sleep with the dog for warmth?”
I got my first winter gas bill today, and the second thing I did after opening it was turn the heat down to 65. The first thing I did was make sure nothing was broken after I woke from the temporary state of unconsciousness I experienced upon reading the amount I owe to my local gas company. We’re talking numbers too high for an English major to comfortably process. My self-diagnosed mathematical learning disability kicked into full gear and I started hyperventilating. I had to take deep breaths and put my head between my knees. It was like reliving the 5 minute class change before 8th grade math class, only worse. Worse, because these numbers are freaking DOLLARS, and even an English major can see that when I *gasp* subtract them from the treasury that is my state teachers’ paycheck I will have considerably less than when I started.
So yeah, it’s chilly in my house. The cat is now under the Christmas tree skirt, and the dog is lying in front of the fireplace. There’s no fire in it, but Suzanna has always been an optimist. As for me, I can’t feel my nose and my knuckles are actually cold from typing this post, so I think I’ll burrow under the covers and go to sleep. Maybe the cat will join me. And if not, at least I still have my unfolded laundry to keep me warm.