Heat

Last night was the first really cold night. I woke up that morning quite chilly, but didn’t do anything about it. When I returned home from work, MIL was in the kitchen cooking, with a giant goose down parka on and those finger cut-out gloves where your fingertips are showing but the “glove” covers your palm.

“Are you cold?” I ask, sort of stupidly. Of course she’s cold. I’m cold. I’m freezing in fact. I’m about to run upstairs and grab a parka myself. Oh– wait– but there is this modern invention called HEAT.

“No, I’m fine,” she says.

I go and turn the heat on anyway. In no time the house is a warm, toasty temperature and everyone should be able to return to wearing normal clothes.

MIL toddles over to me. “Did you turn on the heat?”

“Yes, I did.” I presume she’s about to thank me…..

“Why did you do that? It’s a waste. No need to turn on the heat. You can turn it off.” Then she toddles away. But I don’t turn it off because guess what.. I’m cold.

FIL comes out of his den to MIL. I’m sitting on the family room couch, within close earshot of MIL and FIL.

“Why is it so warm in here?!” He asks.

“Kelter turned the heat on,” says MIL. “I told her not to, but she turned it on anyway.”

Again, I’m within earshot.

“Why would Kelter turn on the heat? It’s such a waste. It’s not that cold yet.”

“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen. You know, fragile health. She has such fragile health. [. . . ?!? Says the terminally ill woman that everyone needs to bend over backwards taking care of?!?!?] So she turns on the heat the second it’s just a little bit chilly.”

“What a waste of electricity,” says FIL.

“I wonder how much the electric bill will be this month, the way these kids use heat!” says MIL.

That’s when I turn off the downstairs heat, storm upstairs, and spin the upstairs heat to maximum. They can all go to hell.