21.05.12
We have yet to turn on our central heat. My husband and I know that we probably should, just to knock off the edge, just for the sake of the children, just for the challenge of heating a house that can’t be heated. But what started out as an exercise in self-denial has become a battle of wills, layered under long underwear.
Meanwhile, the chill of frosty nights has lodged itself in our plaster walls and settled like a pall upon us. We eat dinner wearing scarves and watch TV wrapped in our coats and blankets. I drag my space heater around like a ball and chain. I’d sleep with it if my husband didn’t mind so much.
On the upside, milk left out of the refrigerator by careless children doesn’t sour.
But constant cold affects a person’s faculties, and men are the first to suffer. “This is the summer you’re going to wear a bikini,” says my husband in front of our four children, who choose to remain oblivious to the fact that their parents have hormones, too. “Face it, you’re only getting older. You’re running out of time.
Source: McDuffie Mirror