I married a reptile, a reptile who looks after us all, but a reptile just the same, as in cold-blooded. I always thought being cold-blooded meant you had to go seek out some warmth, go sun yourself on a rock or something, but apparently not. Apparently it means you must live in a perpetual refrigerator.
I am a conservative, as in we conserve things, like electricity. You know how some dads say things like, “turn off the lights in that room, were you born in a barn?” Or perhaps, “Close that door, I’m not paying to heat the outside!” Yeah, I did not marry that guy. Not at all. When he comes home, he must throw open every window, turn on every light, and if I am shivering and turning blue, he will quite graciously turn on the heat, too…. so I can watch the wind blow it all away.
Half the time it will come on by itself, when the temps drop below 40 degrees. That is pretty common at our house, which than compels my reptile to bemoan, “Why is the heat coming on?”
Oh, I don’t know, perhaps because it’s now 38 degrees in our house and they are set to keep the pipes from freezing?
Naturally in this Divine comedy called marriage, I am the precise opposite, the polar opposite even. If it is 90 degrees out, I will sometimes take my sweater off. One of the blessings of my job is that I often work with people who have no biological thermostats of their own, so it will often be 120 degrees in their house. It is quite warm, but not uncomfortable.
I am so used to this way of life, so conditioned, that I simply got up this morning, reached for my coat, put on my hat, got my gloves out so I could type, and proceeded to start blogging. I’ve done this every day for about 20 years now, but for some reason my reptile noticed today and demanded to know why I was dressed like that. I admit, I looked a bit ridiculous in my pajamas and coat…. and scarf, and gloves and blanket, clinging pitifully to my coffee.
So he says, “are you cold?” Why yes, yes I am, or I would be if I had not armed myself properly….
Then, proving how rational he really is, he promptly demands to know why I am cold.
Call me crazy, but I think it is related to the frost on the ground, the wide open windows, and the fact that most mammals maintain an internal temperature somewhere above freezing……
“Isn’t it glorious,” he says, “the fresh air, the crispness,” and his excitement is infectious, his enthusiasm invigorating, and while none of it warms my body, it does warm my heart, so I assure him I am not cold at all, which is now partally true due to the gloves and hot water bottle, and witnessing his obvious delight in all things cold.
Love, what can I say, love can make you downright stupid sometimes.