When Krissa and I fall asleep with the air conditioning on, we're usually warm. But the triumph of thermodynamics that is our air-conditioner contrives to make midnight wake-ups a chilly affair; especially if, in the balmy mugginess of New York's summer evenings, we fall asleep outside the bundled knot of covers.
But in that cold-skinned waking in the middle of the night, the effort of victoriously detangling and claiming a corner of blanket from the slumbering melee is all it takes to push my temperature up to a level where I don't want the blanket any more.
Which can be so annoying that I throw a sleeping-childish huff and wake Krissa up, at which point I have to pretend to be asleep again until she drifts off or we both do.
Air-conditioning is a marvellous thing.
At last somebody tells it like it really is.
Is this your way of apologizing for a thrown huff that i don't actually remember?
Am *I* the sleeping melee?
You speak of air conditioning and expect sympathy.
I hate you. Both.
My flat is like 4000000 degrees. Centigrade.
Because being corporeally vaporised in Fahrenheit would just be adding insult to injury.
I disagree. I think it would be a gas.
It we more be ionisation than a gas Pete ...
You've moved me to tears.
TEARS OF SHAME.
Shame from the joke. Or shame from enjoying it.
All shades of shame, from groaning at it when I got it, to the fact that it is my canvas which will sport it until the end of time.
You know you love engineering jokes. I bet your printed it and put it on your wall. If you print it really big you can stick it on the roof above the bed. Krissa will love that.