Stubbornness is what really killed the cat.

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So, recently, things have gotten a little chillier here in the Chicago area. When I got home from work yesterday, it was 53ºF. One of my bedroom windows was wide open, a testament to the fact that it had been sunny and in the eighties the day before. I was too lazy to get up from my butt to shut it, so I just bundled up and sat at my desk for my daily dose of the internet.

My dad walked in a few minutes later. "It's getting colder outside," he said.

I looked up and did a shifty-eye maneuver to indicate Umm, duh.

"The temperature looks like it's gonna drop pretty significantly tonight, so I just stopped by to tell you that you can close your window if you'd like."

More eye-shifting. Did my father really just give me permission to shut my window when it got too cold in my room? Seriously?

Thankfully, my dad took the hint and left me to freeze. Fifteen minutes later, though, he was knocking on my door again. "It's getting kinda chilly in the rest of the house. Are you going to shut your window?"

This is where my stubbornness overruled my common sense. "No."

"Why not?"

"I . . . like the fresh air," I stammered.

"Well, but the other people who live here might not like being cold."

I stared at my dad, who was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. "The other people who live here could put on some pants . . ."

"Oh, I'm not cold, but your mother probably will be when she comes home."

I wasn't going to budge, especially not on behalf of my mother, who neglected to tape House last week and also threw away my second hair dryer based on faulty assumptions.

"Mmk. Just shut the door then."

Which is exactly what he did. I sat in my room, stubbornly and belligerently freezing to death for some unknown cause. I had on two shirts and a sweatshirt, a hat, pants, socks, and a humongous fuzzy blanket.

This morning? I woke up with the early signs of a cold.

Thursday's Child

Thursday's Child

If I wreck and die, it's your fault.

I used to have a window on the northern side of the house. In the winter, condensation would sometimes freeze on the inside of that window. I loved it.



Thursday's Child - Sweet. I'll kill myself with this cold and take you down with me. Kill one, get one free? hahah.

I spend most of my mornings from November through April scratching frost off the inside of my windows. Then, I hate myself for killing the pretty look of winter.

Eventually, I might learn to stop. Killing people, that is.



When Bella starts telling us to put on pants in our own house, she is SO out of luck. Also, I'm painting the windows shut now.



Oh! So thats what my dad was doing when he made me stand outside my shut bedroom door and feel the draft coming out from under it? He never said why. I thought it was like a science experiment.



Belinda - Yeah, I'm surprised my parents don't hint more heavily along the lines of "You know, you could move out." After experiencing freedom at college, I start feeling oppressed when I have to do things like close a window at home or lower my voice on the phone after 10pm.

. . . I want to kick myself out now.

TheQueen - The library at my church is like that. The temperature is always set to IGLOO!, and my brother and I used to stand outside the shut door and marvel at the air swooshing out. Actually, we marveled and then complained, since we spent most of our summers freezing in there while our mom worked in the church office.

Eeps. I sound a lot like a spoiled brat today. Mayhaps I should work on that.



Hahahaha, that's so funny!

Not funny that you got sick, but funny that yesterday was the day I could fully open my windows and revel in the glorious and long-awaited crisp, cold breeze.

Ahhh... Finally.

*sigh* I love fall.



Scrangie - Long live crisp, cold breezes! Just not the illnesses they may cause. :) (And yes, long live autumn, too. It's my favoritest season of them all.)



This is long.

You are, I think, far too young to remember the last humongous nationwide energy panic, during the '70s, when we were obligated to wear coats in class until November first, when the school board was finally permitted to turn on the boilers.

Our childhoods were shaped by everything being restricted in order to conserve fuel and lower electric bills.

It sucked.

But it leads to this story.

When I moved into my condo, I asked my dad to come over and move the fridge for me so I could clean behind it, something that apparently had not happened since before refrigeration had been invented.

I had the AC on a bit high, because I'd been in a cleaning frenzy most of the morning, and when my dad came in, he said, without thinking, "Wow, it's cold in here."

"So put on a sweater," I said back to him.

Then I danced around saying, "Got you, got you," and called the Mom to tell her.

(Older people find this story funny because their dads told them to put on sweaters, too.)



golfwidow - Ha! Oh my gosh. I am indeed way too young to remember the energy panic in the '70s, but I did grow up reading Calvin and Hobbes, where I learned that fathers are trained to say "Put on a sweater!" when children complain of being cold. I will have to use this next time my parents come into my room to whine about the open window.

Alternately, I could send them outside to stand on the porch for a while until they knew what it felt like to be REALLY cold. Bwa ha ha!