Our air conditioning system is ridiculous. If all of the vents are open, it’s boiling in the living room and freezing in the bedrooms.
My husband is tall. Six feet and three inches of tall. And I’m... I’m totally five foot six. I’m pretty sure that’s what my driver’s license says.
The other evening my husband and I were sweating in the living room while our daughters were sleeping in their rooms (but their feet were cold). He suggested we try the vent closing trick so that we would be cooler, and I agreed. He went quietly and didn’t wake either girl up when he reached up to close the vents. We were cooler. We thought, “problem solved!”
That’s not what I thought at 5 AM this morning as I squinted up at the vent in our bedroom, trying to see without my glasses whether it would be futile for me to jump up to try to open it. It was a bit too warm to sleep, but not so warm that I wanted to wake my husband up to open the vent for me.
This morning after my husband had gone to work, I sat down to write and eat breakfast in the living room, and my toes were cold almost immediately. I put down my spoon, resolved to crack the vents in the bedroom at least a little bit, and looked at my two year old, who has always been tall for her age.
I reflected that someday my daughters will tower over me, but as it is, when my tall and attractive husband is elsewhere, I will always have to be dragging a chair down the hallway.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so much of a problem if I was actually 5’6”.
No comments:
Post a Comment