Living dangerously.

Cal and I live in a house that was built in 1921. It has all of the wonderful charms of age, along with a lot of its pitfalls. For example, most of our windows still have that beautiful, wavy glass of old. These windows, however, do not necessarily perform their practical duties as nicely; air seems to seep in from the outside much more easily than it does in newer homes.

Because both of us are pretty cheap (I prefer frugal), and because neither one of us is "cold-natured", we don't turn on our heater very much. Correction: we don't turn on our heater at all. At least we haven't yet.

Inside our house, it is somehow colder than it is outside. It's gotten down to the low 50's in there so far this year; last year, I'd often be able to see my breath when I'd go and visit Cal.

We use space heaters in the rooms that we use often so that we can stay warm, at least while watching television or taking showers. However, should one of us want to leave the comforts of the warm, cozy sitting room to get, say, a cup of hot chocolate, we argue over who has to make the mad dash to the frigid kitchen to fix it. I've started taking my clothes from the bedroom to the warmer sitting room so as to not freeze when I'm changing in the mornings or at night. Thankfully, we have a mattress warmer on the bed, so that helps once I actually get under the covers.

I knew it was bad when I left my house early for the Ladies' Christmas Banquet at our church the other night. You see, I really had to go to the bathroom, and I just couldn't bring myself to pull down my pants and sit on that frigid toilet seat at my house with my bare bottom. Yes, it's true. Immediately upon arriving at the warm church, filled with wonderfully paid-for heat, I knew that I had made a very good decision. Cal doesn't really understand just how cold those porcelain fixtures can get. Would any man? I don't think so.

I'm blogging here at school, and it's past the time that I'm allowed to leave, but that's okay. I know once I get home I'll be too bundled up in blankets to manage typing on my keyboard. I've never been so happy to stay late at work, and I've been getting here a lot quicker in the mornings, too. Maybe that old, cold house will end up being good for me ...