Crazy But Able

Another couple of months, another “Where’s John?” update.

Let’s see, my back is doing much better, I’ve only re-injured it twice and it’s almost finally healed (again. AGAIN.) :| Camera still broken. :( Lots of little things going well, most of them too little to mention, but they add up. :)

So… here’s a bloggy story. I know in the past I’ve ranted on the internet about how my brain comes up with songs based on whatever random thing I happen to be seeing or doing at the moment. Couple of examples of that: at work, we have a ladder. It’s made by a company called Werner. Every time I see it or have to move it around the office, the song “Wernher von Braun” by Tom Lehrer starts going through my head.

“Vonce se rockets are up, who cares vere zey come down? Zat’s not my department!” says Wernher von Braun.

And a couple of nights ago, I awoke only to discover that I had cast aside one blanket and my wife Peggy had stolen the other one. So there I was, suddenly wide awake, blanketless, the house a balmy 59 degrees, and the song “Standing Outside the Fire” by Garth Brooks going through my head.

Meh, that’s kind of funny, but you might find it funnier if I explain why we keep the house at 59 degrees at night. Fact is, the instant Peggy falls asleep at night, her metabolism goes up to 110 percent and her body temperature reaches measurements normally only seen during National Geographic specials on Hawaiian volcanos. I mean, she sets the smoke alarm off at least once a month. I, on the other hand, am usually freezing in my own personal arctic hell on the other side of the bed. I’d be much happier if the thermostat never went below 82. (Alas, Peggy barely tolerates 68 in the daytime.)

And because I’m the Man in the relationship, and In Charge, and it’s my job to keep Peggy in the bonds of matrimonial oppression[*], of course we keep the thermostat at… 59 degrees at night. I’m no fool. I might be King of my house, but I’d rather be a King whose subject is not continually on the verge of revolt.

[*] This is a little more obviously a joke if you’ve met Peggy.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 5th, 2006 at 10:32 pm and is filed under general foofiness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.