Today is the day! It’s heater day! I sprung out of bed at six in the morning before my husband woke up and turned the heater on twenty-five degrees. My husband and I agreed that the heater would start off on the lower end of what I found comfortable, which was twenty-two degrees. That’s why I got up before him. I kept the heater on twenty-five for a couple of hours before he became noticeably wet from sweat and then I turned it down to twenty-two.
I knew that he knew the heater was higher than we agreed, but he couldn’t check it without looking like he didn’t trust me. That would’ve opened up a massive can of worms that I knew he didn’t want to do. So he just copped it like the good husband that he is. Sometimes I feel bad that he’s such a good husband and that I’m not as good a wife. Like, I love him of course, but I sometimes take advantage of how much he loves me. If I was a good wife I’d pay get the service for our heating and cooling in Sydney, rather than neglecting the cooling completely. But I’m not a particularly good wife – luckily he loves me unconditionally.
As soon as my husband left for work in the mid-morning, I turned the heater up to thirty. This is well above the temperature we agreed, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him… am I right?!
I just love my ducted heating. Sydney folks don’t find it socially acceptable to love an inanimate object more than you love your own family. But why not? I love the way I feel when the heater is on. Of course, as I’ve said a billion times, I love the way my husband makes me feel too, but it’s like comparing apples and oranges. It just can’t be done.