Sunday

Is She Frigid?

I sat here today, freezing my nipples off. I had the thermostat set to over 80, and still I shivered. My legs were painfully cold, chilly even to the touch. The heat kept coming on and I checked the vents to make sure it was actually blowing -- and sure enough, it was. Nice, warm, blowing air.

I checked the thermometer in the living room -- it was down to 65 and dropping. In the fifteen minutes I snooped around, checking vents, it went down another 5 degrees.

What the hell?

Knowing not what else to do, I went back into my office--the warmest room downstairs--and decided to suffer. Upstairs was much, much warmer, but Hank can't go up the stairs, and it didn't feel right to leave him all alone. In the cold.

Eventually, Hank had to do what dogs have to do, and headed for the back door. I got up and followed. And then it hit me.

I hadn't locked the door after he went out this morning.
Our back door doesn't stay closed if it's not locked.
I pulled the curtain back, and sure enough, the back door was open about 3 inches (making me very glad PsychoKitty tends to stay upstairs during the day, and that he didn't discover the open door and go out to investigate the world.)

Now, it was about 15 degrees outside.
The door blew open.
Duh, of course it got cold inside. I locked it after Hank came back inside, and within an hour it was nice and toasty--and then I remembered how high I'd turned up the thermostat.

I really am losing my mind.
Bleh.

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