I’m sitting in the quiet house. B’s at class, little J’s at preschool for the morning. Big kids at school. I’m going through my initial study corpus of blogs for the diss*, scanning briefly to get an idea of what they post about, how much traffic and comments they get, how long they’ve been around and etc.
We** have the house set up with those automatic thermostats, so that during the day when theoretically no one is here, and at night when we’re all snug under five blankets, the temp drops down to a frigid 55 degrees.
Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester, I am home. And it’s quite lovely; I can run laundry and read and write in the house with only the cats to worry about.
Today, though, it’s 6 degrees (sayeth the AccuWeather widget). And in the house, it didn’t take but a half hour for the temp to drop from the balmy 65 it’s set at for the wake-up-get-ready-for-school time slot to the 55 no-one-is-here-but-the-cats-and-they-have-full-time-fur-coats time slot.
I’m frickin’ cold. So I venture out of the office into the living room to get a blanket to wear on my legs (I’ve already got several layers and a hoodie on the top half of me). But I forgot that in our push make the house as airtight as possible, we*** tacked up blankets in the windows of the second floor. So while usually the living room has various extra blankets folded (eh, who am I kidding? strewn about) on the couches, today when I walked into the living room (while repeating my mantra “don’t look at the mess…ignore the train set scattered everywhere…”) I found that the ONE blanket left was already taken.
George was fast asleep in the nest of it, warm and happy in a brief spot of sun.
I could not take the blanket from him. He has just as much right to be warm and comfy, right? I stood in the living room and argued with myself.
“He’s a CAT,” part of me insists. “Built-in FUR COAT. You are a poor, bald-skinned human. Take the blanket!!” But I just could not.
Because I refuse to turn the heat up (stubborn, I know. or maybe another word that begins with S-T-U. but whatever), I scrounge and find a heating pad to wrap my slippered feet in, and I get my winter coat to put on my legs.
I’m aware of the irony: I won’t turn the heat up to save fuel, but I will plug an electric heating pad in, which clearly costs money. The fact that I gave up the last blanket in the house to a cat, however, should be the first clue that I’m just not all that bright.
*Notes and links will soon be up at zerodraft.newmedia29.com.
**I say we because marriage makes you one person, right? No. B put the digital thermostats in. I had nothing to do with it.
***Yeah, he pretty much does everything around here that involves fasteners and implements. I could learn to swing a hammer, but why?