When it comes to the thermostat you either choose a side, or a side chooses you.
The house was quiet, and I stepped carefully to avoid all of the creaks in the floor. When I got to the thermostat, I looked over both shoulders and licked my lips. Then I bumped it up 2 degrees.
I've never felt so liberated.
About two hours later, it was back to its too-low-for-me setting. And I wondered, who exactly controls the thermostat? I'd say my wife, but it could also be the Russians.
When the cold first comes, I like to think I'm prepared, but I never am. And I end up with a chill in my bones I can't seem to shake.
When I let the cat in from the porch the other night, I opened the door to his exact width. And I peeked through the crack with a look that kindly asked the cold to stay outside.
I like to think that I can win the war against the cold with sweaters. But, believe it or not, sweaters aren't always the answer. Sometimes you need real firepower.
So there I was sneaking around my own home like a ninja, hell-bent on making the world 2 degrees warmer.
When it comes to the thermostat you either choose a side, or a side chooses you. Are you one of those people who adjust it based on comfort? Or based on torturing those around you?
One particularly hot summer, when I was a teen, I learned what side I was on. I had the house to myself, and it was verging on a million degrees outside.
"Let's see what this baby can do," I said while cranking the air conditioning to its coldest setting. I expected it to shoot me across the room like when Michael J. Fox strummed the guitar in front of the giant amp in "Back to the Future." Instead, the house sighed and got to work. You can imagine my parents' reaction when they came home and I was driving a Zamboni around the living room.
My wife is on the other side. She likes the house to be an affordable temperature that uses as little energy as needed. I want to wear shorts and a T-shirt all winter.
"Did you turn the thermostat down?" I asked her that night.
"No," she said, adding she hadn't touched it.
A while back, we installed a smart thermostat that can be controlled on a cellphone. I thought this was great because it would allow us to keep the temperature low when we are gone and turn it up on our way home. Of course, I always forget about this. I am not good at setting my living temperature in advance.
My wife mentioned maybe it was programmed to a low temperature, and we just needed to adjust it.
"That makes sense," I said, while looking at the app and learning an important piece of news. "I forgot the password."
I tried a few that failed and decided maybe our smart home is finally taking over our house.
"Or maybe the Russians have hacked my password and are focused on making us slightly uncomfortable?"
She didn't think either of these were likely.
"I'll just go put on a sweater," I said.
David Manley is an editor at The Canton Repository. Share your stories with him at email@example.com. Find him on Twitter: @DaveManley.