Feeling hot, hot, hot...

Son number two is still clinging on to the excesses of living at home.  You know the kind of thing, clean pants, hot water and milk in the fridge.  Now while he's been particularly useful in the dog walking stakes over the last two weeks, on Tuesday morning, I am sure his ears would have been burning like something out of a 1970's disaster movie (think Steve McQueen).

Laying in bed, I had checked my phone, and decided that 6.37am was a perfectly acceptable time to arise, bearing in mind the husband was walking the fuzzballs that morning.  Shivering, I closed the bedroom window and opened our bedroom door.

Well...

For one minute, I wondered whether I had stumbled into some parallel universe, it was so bloody hot.  Columbia sprung to mind, as I shuffled down the stairs, my sweating palms sliding quite nicely down the banister.  It was then I remembered something which son number two had said when I got back from Binland on Monday.  It was bloody cold, and he had put the heating to manual to 'warm the house up a bit' (his words, not mine).

Now you and I would merely click up the old thermostat a couple of degrees wouldn't we?  Just enough to take the chill off and go about our normal business without turning blue or risking something dropping off.  Son number two had a different technique, which basically involved whanging (great word) the thermostat up to its full extent, and then forgetting all about it.  And why should he remember?  After all, he PAYS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TOWARDS THE BILLS...  Not one to gripe, but I only realised yesterday that I have continued to pay him his university allowance, which means that I have been paying him to eat all the food I have been buying for him..

Anyway, back to Columbia...

Between the thermostat and the kitchen, I managed to achieve a pair of dried out eyeballs and a dehydration headache, so the day kicked off as the last seven have, necking copious amounts of drugs to counter the effects.  The dogs looked like they'd been in the river all night, and a couple of my plastic plant pots had warped in the heat.

The only saving grace was that later that morning I had to get on the scales for the first time at the weekly Binland Diet Club weigh in.  Part of me was quite happy with the scales, but a small part of me was wondering what I might have weighed had I not sweated out three litres between my bedroom door and kitchen earlier that morning.

When I got back from Binland yesterday, son number two was at home (still).  I gently reminded him that if he should tamper with my thermostat again, he must put it back to how it was once the house had warmed up.

Well apparently, he didn't know how to do that, (this is like saying that you know how to jump forward, but jumping backwards is a complete mystery - he is male however, so nothing should ever surprise me), so a rather succinct lesson was given at the thermostat site.

And then he came out with the killer line...

'It was so hot last night, I had to open my window...'

There will come a day, oh son of mine, when I will visit your home, switch all the lights on, leave the windows open, whang (that word again) the thermostat up and leave the fridge door open.  

I will then go and sit in my car and have a mildly hysterical laugh...


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