Sunday I went to church. All through the service, my feet were freezing. I put my coat over my legs like a blanket, hoping that would help my feet feel warmer, but it didn’t.
I came home, changed into warmer and more comfortable clothes, and started a fire in the wood stove. That helped take the edge off, but my feet were still cold.
Two blankets, a cup of hot chocolate and a bowl of hot bean soup later, I was finally getting warm. But eventually that bean soup wore off, and I was curled up in a little ball, sitting on my feet, and covering myself with the blankets as much as possible.
Finally, I had to go sit directly in front of the fire. That definitely helped.
But later, I wanted to hang out with my husband. I wanted to watch TV with him. And the TV is in the next room — NOT right by the fire. And it was cold in there.
And then, Chef made the suggestion: “Do you think we should turn up the heat?”
So we did. He bumped it up from 50 to 55. It was much better. But we were still chilly.
So we bumped it up again, this time to 57.
My toes were no longer frozen. I could sit on the couch without twelve blankets on top of me. I could uncover my hands so that I could knit.
It was marvelous.
We’re going to try to keep the thermostat at 57, turning it back down to 50 at night or when we’re not home. Yes, our gas bill will increase, but good golly. It’s going to be 11 degrees later this week. And I’m sure if you live in Canada or Alaska, you may be scoffing at my wimpiness. You probably go swimming when it’s 11 degrees. But I was cold.
And now, I’m not so cold.
I’m happy to have the heat at 57 degrees.