It’s winter and I’m cold
It’s winter and I’m cold

It’s winter and I’m cold

I’m living with the heater nazi.

Doc, as I’m my partner will henceforth be known in this blog, doesn’t feel the cold, so doesn’t think anybody else should either.

Everytime I put the heater on he gives me “that” look. The one where he’s desperately trying not to roll his eyes. Though sometimes he can’t help himself and he even verbalises the disdain. “Are you kidding?”

Well, no, I’m not kidding. It’s winter. I’m sure I’m not the only one that feels that. In winter it gets cold.

AND I HATE THE COLD.

I told him this before I moved in. I did more than tell him, I showed him.

He spent a lot of time at my house in winter. I had a big gas heater that warmed the whole house. I could walk around at home in the middle of winter in a short skirt and singlet. On a tiled floor.

It used to be that anybody that walked in the door would start sweating and peel off their clothes.

My gas bills were huge. But at least I was warm. Which is the way I like it.

So do my daughters. My son wanders around in shorts and a t-shirt all year, regardless of the weather. He sometimes complained about the heat inside in winter.

Maybe it’s a boy thing.

I remember driving down to the farm one night. One very, very cold night. In July. And I put the heater on in the car. I got the look. And Doc wound his window down – only a little, but enough to let me know that I was being unreasonable.

Then junior (his 16 year old) started from the backseat.

“Dad, can you turn the heater off? I’m really hot back here.”

Well, of course you are. You’re wearing fleecy trackpants, ugh boots, 2 jumpers, and an arctic jacket. With the hood pulled up. You’d be warm in Antarctica!

Which started another discussion.

Me : “Take some clothes off and you won’t be so hot”

Them : “You put some clothes on and you won’t need the heater”

Me : “I’m inside. I shouldn’t have to wear a lot of clothes inside.”

Maybe they had a point. I’m not good at dressing for winter. I feel swaddled, or constrained, or something, and my legs get all claustrophic in long pants all the time.

I can’t do the layering thing. I’ve seen people who can throw on layer after layer and look glamorous.  I just look fat and bulky. Made worse by being all pale and sallow through lack of sunlight.

But I digress.

It’s not just the temperature Doc complains about. He has one of those gadgets that measures how much energy the house is using (as if the house was an entity unto itself). When I turn the heater on he brings it over to show me.

As if I’m solely responsible for global warming.

I DON’T CARE! I WANT TO BE WARM.

I work from home and have a 2 bar heater in my office. We’ve already discussed this and I was warned. They use a lot of electricity. They’re not efficient. I was even told I’m not allowed to have one!

I was going to put it away before he gets home from work so he wouldn’t know I had it. But then I figured – I’m an adult, I can make decisions about whether or not I want to be warm. Besides, I’m paying the electricity bill.

So the heater is still sitting there. It’s turned off now because I get the afternoon sun through the window and that keeps me warm for a few hours in the afternoon.

Maybe if he sees it there he’ll put some more efficient heating in this part of the house.

Or maybe he’ll just throw it out. Maybe I should put it away!