November 9th, 2007

Brain missing

Game on!

This morning hubby woke up to a 14C (57F) house. He spent a great deal of time complaining about how cold it was, how uncomfortable it was, and when he brought the garbage to the curb, he claimed his hair froze when he came back in. It was -4C (25F) outside. Dude, I'm not buying it.

I repeatedly let him know that if he was that uncomfortable he should turn on the furnace. There was no ulterior motive, I thought it was a practical suggestion. But he refused. Not only did he refuse, he indicated that I should be the one to turn on the furnace, otherwise known as caving. I could tell by the tone of his voice. Well, we just know that won't be happening now! I was all set to turn on the furnace before we went out to dinner last night, but he talked me out of it, and now he's set it up as a battle of wills. I am at a slight disadvantage in that I am home all day, but with the sun streaming in the windows it got up to 17C in here today, and I've always got the cat and Sasha to cuddle with.

Bring it on!

Oh ya, you Americans need to get metricified, I'm tired of these conversions *g*

(no subject)

In a totally unrelated note to my last post, I woke up this morning to my milk, as well as the majority of the contents of my fridge, being frozen. The fan in the freezer was making some odd noises last week and apparently some dials were fiddled with.

The crisp temps in the house combined with the frozen milk did bring back memories of our cottage in the fall, before we owned it. Our cottage was originally owned by my uncle, and while he got the shell of the structure completed, he didn't quite get around to the insulating the walls and adding a ceiling (so there was no insulation in the attic either). This was also in the days before they had run electricity in our neck of the woods, so there were no baseboard heaters (or lights for that matter!)

At the time the cottage was heated by a huge cast iron kitchen stove similar to this:

Of course it didn't matter how much you stuffed it with wood, that sucker wasn't going to last you the entire night. We used to sleep in our snowsuits and double up on the sleeping bags. You never really wanted to be the first one to wake up, because that meant a mad dash through the freezing cold to the stove to get it going. It was much more fun to poke your head out of the sleeping bag and watch your breath.

None of us will forget the morning that we discovered the milk had been left out on the table over night (we had a propane fridge - go figure, fire to make things colder). It wasn't really a tragedy in that none of the milk was lost, as it had frozen into an almost solid lump overnight! The only 'tragedy' was that we had to wait a bit for our cereal. Of course years later we teased our parents that we should have called CAS, but I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.