Our teenage kids are finally caving--they concede that we should turn on the heat after all.
This fall, as we were making our way through an abnormally warm season, the kids were urging us to go farther than our usual ban on heat until Nov. 1, and just not turn on the heat at all this year. They scoffed at us (my spouse and me), and told us we could dress warmer if we were so cold. They wanted to lessen our global impact and prove that heat was an unnecessary luxury.
Which is why I read the paper this morning in a long-sleeve shirt, topped with first a fleece zip-up on top, and then a woolrich jacket, with socks on and sheepskin slippers (yes, there were pants)--and I was still cold. It was only 57 degrees, but that is quite chilly when you're sitting still, trying to sip your coffee and contemplate the daily comics. However, I wasn't going to budge on the heat thing until the kids insisted.
They are definitely getting there. The towels in the bathroom don't dry, and they've discovered that it is sometimes warmer outside than in. Their young bodies are beginning to feel the chill, after resolutely stating that they don't get cold. We've had to bundle their little brother up (who really doesn't feel cold, to his own detriment), so he doesn't get sick and stay sick.
I am a big believer in keeping the heat down. It keeps the Christmas tree fresh if you have one in the house, it makes sense not to dress for summer during winter, and I remember when paying for heat was not an option, even if that was decades ago. Any day now, when the kids are though, we'll fire up the natural gas and set the thermometer for a balmy 64 degrees, and feel like we're on a tropical island. Maybe I'll even be able to shed a layer over coffee in the morning, or three layers will actually be warm.
It will have been worth the wait.