I'm a Wimp
I'm terribly excited that Fall is finally upon us. I love sleeping in the cool: blankets heaped upon me, woolen-sock clad feet, cold clammy nose barely peeking out from under the covers, long johns... I just love everything about it. So I made a resolve this week to keep the heat off for as long as I could stand it.
I didn't even make it to sun-down last night. There I was in my long johns, wool socks, warmest winter nightgown, sitting under piles of blankets and I was still freezing. It was 57 degrees in my room. Is that too cold? I don't think so, it seems like I should have been fine under all that stuff. But I couldn't shake the chill and I knew it would only get colder as the sun dropped.
So like the Southern wimp that I am, I turned on the heat. I take a small measure of comfort in the fact that I set the heat on 64, but not enough. I survived a Russian winter, for goodness sakes! Though to be fair, Russians heat their rooms by piping hot water throughout the building. I don't know where they get all the hot water from, but it works very well. They also tape up their windows so that no cold air gets inside. And most of their windows sills have two layers of working windows. In winter they use the space in between as a natural refrigerator. It works quite well.
Unfortunately, I woke up hot this morning. So, I may push the thermostat down to 60.
And all of this reminds me of one of my favorite Ogden Nash poems. I know I've quoted him before, but I'm not sure if it was this particular quote. (It probably was, since the people in my family tend to repeat themselves...)
I will post the poem following this, but you'll see it appear above this post - whatever.
I didn't even make it to sun-down last night. There I was in my long johns, wool socks, warmest winter nightgown, sitting under piles of blankets and I was still freezing. It was 57 degrees in my room. Is that too cold? I don't think so, it seems like I should have been fine under all that stuff. But I couldn't shake the chill and I knew it would only get colder as the sun dropped.
So like the Southern wimp that I am, I turned on the heat. I take a small measure of comfort in the fact that I set the heat on 64, but not enough. I survived a Russian winter, for goodness sakes! Though to be fair, Russians heat their rooms by piping hot water throughout the building. I don't know where they get all the hot water from, but it works very well. They also tape up their windows so that no cold air gets inside. And most of their windows sills have two layers of working windows. In winter they use the space in between as a natural refrigerator. It works quite well.
Unfortunately, I woke up hot this morning. So, I may push the thermostat down to 60.
And all of this reminds me of one of my favorite Ogden Nash poems. I know I've quoted him before, but I'm not sure if it was this particular quote. (It probably was, since the people in my family tend to repeat themselves...)
I will post the poem following this, but you'll see it appear above this post - whatever.
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5 Comments:
Wimp! Wimp! ;o)
We haven't turned our heat on yet. The trick for me is a down comforter. Heavenly!
The glitch? It makes getting out of bed Even Harder than ever.
I like this time of year for the same reason you do. Although it does make it even harder for me to stand upright.
...in the morning.
Would be nice if I had finished my sentence in the same posting.
Our heat is already on. Im a wimp, too.
I love it to be cold outside, while Im warm and toasty inside.
Hubby bought me a present of fire wood last week and I was in heaven.... but I used it all up too fast.
Second the down comforter. I'm still sleeping in shorts and a tank top and lemme tell ya, dad doesn't turn the upstairs heat up much over 60. Maybe 61 just for the sake of saying it's over 60.
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