If you haven't been reading long enough or if I haven't mentioned it enough, we live in Phoenix, Arizona. It's hot here. Super hot. As in, it was 82 degrees when I got in the car this morning... at 7am. And it's only early June. Temps hit 110 this weekend, and we'll likely stay within 10 degrees of that mark for the next 3 or 4 months.
As you can imagine, the electric company completely takes advantage of this and raises the electricity rates in the summer. Our bill almost doubled from May to June, in part because of higher temperatures, and in part because of the rate hike. Either way, summer is expensive.
And thus the war begins in the Kingston home. In the blue corner, standing 6'5" and sporting colorful skin and a goatee.... Dan Kingston! Fighting for low utility bills and the use of fans. In the red corner, measuring in at 5'5" and waving her hands dramatically in a futile attempt to cool herself.... Brooke Kingston! Arguing for higher bills if it means she doesn't feel like she's being cooked.
I get why my husband takes his stance and wants to keep bills low. Really I do. I remember last summer when our August bill was $360. I remember the fight with the complex about how there was no way there was nothing wrong with the AC unit and that a bill for a 1 bedroom apartment should ever be more than a car payment. I don't want to see our bills ever get that high. I also want to be able to sleep. And maybe, not wake up feeling like I'm going to burst into flames. It gets even worse when I have to start doing my hair. By the time I walk out the door, I feel all melty and disgusting. And remember, people, this is Arizona. "It's a dry heat." That's BS by the way - it doesn't matter when it's over 105 degrees - it's just plain hot. We don't even have to contend with humidity.
I'd always thought it was supposed to be the opposite way around. The wife is supposed to be constantly freezing while the husband throws blankets at her while he attemps to cool himself in his underwear while 6 or 7 fans are aimed directly at him. When the bill arrives, he's supposed to be shocked and baffled by the sticker price while icicles hang from his nose. Not in this castle. Dan seems perfectly content to sleep under a blanket while I sneak the thermostat down a degree at a time and wake up with my hair stuck to my face. Yuck. If I had my way, we'd live at 72 degrees constantly. I'll sign my paycheck and my life away to be comfy.
Thus, I propose a compromise to my dear husband. He will not longer touch the thermostat (like, ever), and I agree to keep it set to 75 when we're at home, and 80 during the day (for the dogs). I'll even buy him a Snuggie if he's still cold. That will avoid me waking up to a 77 degree apartment, and it's a meeting in the middle in terms of the bill. I want to be able to at least sleep in comfort. When we're in the living room, I can get by with fans. But please, sweet Dan, let me sleep comfortably.
Who controls the thermostat at your house?