I wake to find HH firmly buried under his pillow.
Before you ask, I must assure you I did NOT place it over his face, on account of him being worth much more to me alive than dead.
“Babe,” I ask, “you ok?”
He mutters something unintelligible, but it sounds like “Mm MMMZZZMM!”
Flinging back the covers off my boiling self, I tuck them around him. “You cold?” I ask, knowing well the answer. Our bedroom temperature has plummeted to a chilling 68°F (20°C). Naturally, I expect there to be ice on the inside of the windows.
As ever, I am a veritable living, breathing space heater in search of even a sliver of coolness on my side of the bed. All to no avail.
“Why is there a pillow on your head? It’s not even light out yet.”
Lifting the edge of his pillow, he says, “You do know we lose half our heat through our heads? I’m trying not to die of heat loss.”
I can’t help but snort at that as I blot my forehead with the hem of my night gown. “Dude, that’s a myth,” I say. “It’s roasting in here.”
“Are you CRAZY??” He asks for about the millionth time this month. (Let’s be honest. It’s not a REAL question if he already knows the answer, is it?)
Just then, his phone alarm springs to life, and he fumbles to silence the water-zen melody. Thirty seconds later, the song continues. In the end, HH reboots his Samsung Note 3 to shut it up. (I would love to point out that my iPhone 6s Plus NEVER crashes, but that would just be mean.)
“Turn that fan off, woman!”
“Seriously,” I say, reaching across to turn the fan off, “you need to wear more clothes to bed!” HH is, for the record, shivering inside a hoodie, t-shirt, shorts and joggers. This is beside the point. “You can aways wear more,” I say. “I can only take off so much.”
He grumbles, returning his pillow to its preferred location atop his head. After a few seconds, he fires his parting shot: “It’s so cold in here even my phone froze…”
I knew it was coming. I laugh anyway…
Poor HH.
Mother Hen
HH getting ready to face another day at the office captain america ice sculpture: The Nerd Filter
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Mother Hen Diaries 
68 is a tad warmer than I keep it during the colder months… though that has nothing to do with comfort. I’m just a miser…
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Trust me, Squirrel – I would happily have it colder. Especially at night, miser or not. But we try to strike a happy medium. With some success… ish.
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HHBL and I keep it at a comfortable 68° when sleeping. And if the weather is cooler, throw open a few windows for that free “ahhhconditioning”. It’s the poor dogs we have to worry with as they must have a blanket thrown over them before we retire or we’ll hear about it…usually when we’re in a dead sleep.
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Bear, Our BRT is a woolly beast so he’s good… shame HH’s furry outer coat doesn’t serve him as well!!
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This was a pretty familiar scenario except that the roles are reversed. I run cold whereas my husband is a human furnace – something my kids have inherited from him. We try to keep the ambient temperature a happy medium between our needs but what that effectively means is that he roasts while I still shiver. I try snuggling up to him in the middle of the night to steal some of his heat and thaw out a bit but I end up feeling like I am burning and scurry back to my side of the bed. Don’t you wish we humans had controllable thermostats?
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Ah, yes, thermal incompatibility’s a real challenge in any relationship.
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