The Man weighs about 3 pounds. Ok, so maybe that's hyperbole, but I'm just saying, the man has no body fat. I, on the other hand, have plenty of cushion, perhaps even to share with a friend. This disparity causes a bit of an issue sometimes, when it comes to the temperature of our home.
Now, I don't think I'm over the top with my cooling needs. My mother, for instance, is much more the hotblooded type. She has been known to keep her home at such a low temperature that it's been a bit of family joke. "Remember," one of my siblings will say, "when we used to wake up in the early morning, at mom's house, all warm in our sweats, wrapped in blankets, drinking our hot coffee, and talk about our plans for the day, and what time the 4th of July parade was happening?"
I do like it cool, though, and staying cool upstairs requires the use of the ceiling fan. My husband has learned not to turn off the fan- at night, in particular. Rather, he just burritos himself in a blanket and makes the best of it.
Some members of the household have not yet gotten the memo. Last night, I was just drifting off to sleep, when I heard a jangling sound and awoke with a start. My husband sighed and got out of bed. I said, "What are you doing? I think that was just the kitten, playing with the necklace Small One hung on the door."
"No," he replied, "I re-hung it, on the lightswitch. Kitten just turned off the fan."