Now, mind you, we're talking heat here. My old New England house doesn't have air conditioning, unless you count the 200-pound window units we lug up every summer for the few months that it actually gets hot here. We have electric, baseboard heating.

Rags and I require white noise to get a good night's sleep, so I already have a air purifier chugging through the night. I don't want another contraption. So instead, I sleep below the "Comfort Zone" and leave my room frigid while turning my electric blanket up to about the fifth or sixth (out of 10) setting. Rags sleeps on top of the covers here, so he feels the warmth from the bottom up.
The past two weeks, minus a day or two here and there, has been warm enough that I can open my windows a crack to let in fresh air without turning blue. Two nights I even slept with the windows open. But for the most part, I'm always cold inside and always hot outside (even in the winter - I sweat doing my errands). I blame my thyroid, or lack thereof.
I just wish there was a happy medium. For now, the score is Kelly - 0, thermostat - 1 (or 35 if you count every night I've slept here).
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