Hot in Bed - Being 60 (week 14 - by Margaret Ullrich)

My relatives don't believe me when I tell them our summers are hot.  Hot enough so that we have to use our central air conditioner.

Our summers are hot.

Trust me.

  

We recently had a hot muggy stretch, when our AC was going 24/7 to keep us at a comfortable 21º Celcius, instead of the 40º plus it felt like.  Then we had a rainy day, which got rid of the humidity.  The rainy day was to be followed by a night when it would dip to 8º.      

That's when the shit hit the fan.

When couples are about to get married they usually discuss things they think are important - sex, money, religion.  Big whoop.  They never discuss what really matters.

What's a cool night and how to deal with it. 

I was thrilled when John Sauder said it was going to hit 8º.  To me air conditioning is a poor second to fresh cool air.  I sleep more soundly when it's cool.  The cooler the better.  I wanted to turn off the air and start opening windows.

Paul's reaction to the weather forecast differed from mine.  He repeated "8 degrees" as if we were being threatened by a tsunami.  He wanted the air left on and the windows closed.

We compromised.

I turned off the air and started opening windows.

Paul placed our heavy comforter over his half of the bed so he could sleep through the new Ice Age.  

I made do with the top sheet.  Slept like a log.

Paul got a lot of exercise.  After a few hours he was sweating.  He got up, removed the comforter and carefully placed a doubled blanket over his side of the bed.  After a few hours he was sweating.  He undoubled the blanket.  After a few hours he was cold.  He redoubled the blanket.  After a few hours he was sweating.  He undoubled the blanket.  Then he couldn't sleep. 

I couldn't stop laughing.

Well, he'd thought hot flashes were funny.