When I was in college, I slept on a water bed. It WAS the eighties. The bed was heated, which was perfect because my dad had furnished me with the largest air conditioner available. I would turn the air on high, and the bed on high, then snuggle under the covers while my room froze. Literally, froze. I would wake up in the morning and the air conditioner would have frost over it. It was heavenly. I may or may not have written a bad check to the Nashville Electric Company at one point. I blame my father for getting me the big A/C.
My current house does not have any water beds, but we do have temperature extremes. Most of the house is drafty and cold, but then my dad put in remote-controlled gas logs. MP and I might be slightly addicted to the remote. Which explains why the thermometer read 90 degrees in the living room yesterday. I may or may not have to write Scana Energy a bad check. I blame my father for getting me the gas logs.
See, I don’t blame my mother for EVERYTHING.