The current temperature here in pre-dawn northern Virginia is 20 degrees, and, according to www.weather.com, it feels like 5 degrees. I’ll second that opinion. It was pretty tough getting myself out the door to go for a run, but somehow I managed it. I keep thinking that I hear the baby cry, but it’s really just the wind howling. Brrrr.
A month or so ago, I was having a terrible time getting to sleep because it was so hot upstairs. Finally, I adjusted the settings on the thermostat to turn the heat down earlier in the evening, and I closed the vents in my bedroom and the upstairs hall. Now, it is comfortable by bedtime and by early morning is snuggably-cold in my room. This makes it even more difficult to get out of bed at o-dark-thirty. But here’s my theory: it’s really cold outside. If I am nice and warm in the house, then I won’t want to go out there. I may as well be cold, and get myself moving to warm up. All I have to do is get myself out of bed, and once I am vertical, I will be so cold that I will hurry up, get dressed and start running.
Bill does not like this theory. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, and he isn’t going for a run. He is not interested in standing on a cold bathroom floor while shaving his face with numb fingers clutching the razor. He is afraid that hypothermia-induced confusion will prevent him from finding the coffee maker. And he gets really annoyed when I come back from my run and start shedding layers and looking really hot and sweaty while he sits there chipping away at the layer of ice forming in his bowl of cold cereal.
Before I headed out this morning, I manually turned the heat up for him, and I’ve promised him a reevaluation of my temperature and time settings. Now that winter seems to have arrived, I’m afraid I may find him frozen stiff one morning. I wouldn’t want him to be late for work!