The Heat is On
For the last couple of days, the Mrs. has been complaining that it's too cold in the house.
"Put a sweater on" I tell her. "Do you know how much money we've lost from our retirement accounts in this financial boondoggle?" I'm trying to do what my friend Aaron calls "Getting in touch with your inner cheapskate." I love that phrase. It's what we all need to do in these times.
Of course, it's hard to argue saving a few bucks on heat when I just dropped $25 on one heritage breed chicken that I'll be roasting up today. Yeah, Boston Market has whole chickens already cooked for eight bucks or whatever so I must be crazy or an idiot, right? My values are a little different. I'd rather pay a premium for a bird that had a life outside of a cramped piss-scented concrete warehouse than support that kind of cruelty. Plus heritage breeds taste better and we'll get at least two meals each out of this bird and the bones will go into my stockpot. Meat should not be cheap in any event, but I won't go into that whole screed here. Read Michael Pollan or Chris Cosentino's blog or countless other foodie resources for that argument. The other net effect of buying expensive humanely raised meat is that, of course, you buy and eat less meat. We're eating a higher percentage of all-vegetarian meals and I dropped a few pounds over the summer (though with someone my size it's tossing a deck chair off the Titanic but I feel a little better and my cholesterol dropped below 200 sans any pharmaceutical help in any event).
Anyway we got up this morning and it was 61 degrees in the house. Great sleeping weather, I thought. I get fantastic, high-quality sleep at this time of year. When you get past 35 or especially 40 you appreciate a good night's sleep like a fine bottle of wine or a beautiful work of art. She thought "It's freezing in here and we're putting the heat on."
"Fine" I said. "You can run it to 65, but it goes off when the oven goes on later. And it goes off before we go to bed."
She put it on and noted that even the cats had gravitated to various heating vents around the house. "They're just curious." I said. Then the Mrs. coughed.
"Aha! It's all that dry air coming out of the heating vents. Better turn them off." She frowned at me and went about preparing her breakfast.
Sigh.
It should be an exciting day in any event. The garlic is going in the ground, we're dogsitting for my in-laws and I'll be making a batch of French Onion soup for use during the week along with the aforementioned chicken. Hopefully it'll be a good day in the kitchen and all the four-legged critters will get along.
"Put a sweater on" I tell her. "Do you know how much money we've lost from our retirement accounts in this financial boondoggle?" I'm trying to do what my friend Aaron calls "Getting in touch with your inner cheapskate." I love that phrase. It's what we all need to do in these times.
Of course, it's hard to argue saving a few bucks on heat when I just dropped $25 on one heritage breed chicken that I'll be roasting up today. Yeah, Boston Market has whole chickens already cooked for eight bucks or whatever so I must be crazy or an idiot, right? My values are a little different. I'd rather pay a premium for a bird that had a life outside of a cramped piss-scented concrete warehouse than support that kind of cruelty. Plus heritage breeds taste better and we'll get at least two meals each out of this bird and the bones will go into my stockpot. Meat should not be cheap in any event, but I won't go into that whole screed here. Read Michael Pollan or Chris Cosentino's blog or countless other foodie resources for that argument. The other net effect of buying expensive humanely raised meat is that, of course, you buy and eat less meat. We're eating a higher percentage of all-vegetarian meals and I dropped a few pounds over the summer (though with someone my size it's tossing a deck chair off the Titanic but I feel a little better and my cholesterol dropped below 200 sans any pharmaceutical help in any event).
Anyway we got up this morning and it was 61 degrees in the house. Great sleeping weather, I thought. I get fantastic, high-quality sleep at this time of year. When you get past 35 or especially 40 you appreciate a good night's sleep like a fine bottle of wine or a beautiful work of art. She thought "It's freezing in here and we're putting the heat on."
"Fine" I said. "You can run it to 65, but it goes off when the oven goes on later. And it goes off before we go to bed."
She put it on and noted that even the cats had gravitated to various heating vents around the house. "They're just curious." I said. Then the Mrs. coughed.
"Aha! It's all that dry air coming out of the heating vents. Better turn them off." She frowned at me and went about preparing her breakfast.
Sigh.
It should be an exciting day in any event. The garlic is going in the ground, we're dogsitting for my in-laws and I'll be making a batch of French Onion soup for use during the week along with the aforementioned chicken. Hopefully it'll be a good day in the kitchen and all the four-legged critters will get along.
Comments
Run it at 65? Oven on? Curious cats?
You are SO on your own until at least the big-five-oh. (Valley Girl Speak alert).
Can I come over for some soup and Heritage Chicken?
Now the cold issue... tell my loving Aunt that Daniel is from Australia and hasn't even yelled for the heat yet! We put the flannel sheets on yesterday and got a new huge throw for winter. If I can keep my gas bill at $25 that it's been for the past few months I'm happy. It was 60 in the house this morning and yes it was a bit cold, but it makes you get ready just that much faster! Diesel and Blinky have their nice warm beds downstairs and Diesel has his 2nd bed upstairs while Blinky just uses our bed, so they are fine too. I agree, the cats were just curious! :)
The downside is the cats develop a winter coat which they then lose in the spring. There is enough hair around to build at least two more cats. And now with the baby he is a long hair. So more hair to go around.