Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Comfort Zone

Why is it that the company who made the thermostat in my bedroom thinks they know what temperature I prefer? They have deemed, via the "Comfort Zone" denoted on the thermostat, that 70-79° is the perfect setting to be comfortable. I beg to differ.

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.

If the thermostat is set anywhere below the "Comfort Zone," you can't feel any heat unless you lay on the floor about 3 inches from the unit. But once you cross that threshold from 69-70° and hear the click (that says, "I'm turning sh*t up in here!"), you immediately feel faint. It gets so hot that you're dizzy and disoriented, it smells like the house is burning down, and if you make the mistake of giving in to the poisonous heat and fall asleep for any period of time, you'll wake up the driest skin and hair you've ever experienced, and yes, Virginia, your nose will bleed from the lack of humidity. I like to think of myself as a smart, edumucated woman, but my brother is the genius - for he has conquered the heat. He uses a humidifier. He can get his room all nice and cozy without the nosebleeds.

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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