It’s that time of year when we need to ask some very important questions. While the commander in chief is identifying key issues in Washington (like whether to bulldoze the Kennedy Center), we average, run-of-the-mill citizens are responding to more existential questions:
With darkness approaching, what is the meaning of life?
Is artificial intelligence going to doom humanity?
Are gasoline prices going up or down this week?
And perhaps of greatest importance, particularly if you live in the Northeast: When is it okay to turn on the heat?
That’s a subject of great discussion and angst in our house. My feeling is that when I’m wearing multiple layers of clothing and no longer have sensation in my fingers and toes, that is the right time. And yes, it’s true, that time may vary. We’ve just experienced an early season nor’easter – rare but not abnormal. Such a coastal storm swirls around, bringing high winds and lots of precipitation, either in the form of rain or snow. This time it was fortunately rain, but it still caused temperatures to drop while high winds took down trees and power lines.
My wife strongly and vehemently disagrees with my need-based personal thermometer. She feels that Oct. 1 is a hard-and-fast starting line for activating the furnace. Anything before that date represents victories for weakness and lack of resolve.
I actually won the first skirmish, citing that it would be prudent to turn on the heat in advance of the four-day storm to make sure the furnace is working properly. It did, but I further had to convince her that it needed more than two minutes to fully function.
That, of course, was five days ago, and it hasn’t been on since. I do receive inquisitions from time to time, delivered in her “principal” voice: “Did you turn on the heat again?”
No. I don’t dare.
In full disclosure, our household, like most others I’m sure, has a range of bodily thermostats. My wife is constantly hot, requiring significant amounts of air conditioning and fans working their hardest. I, on the other hand, am typically cold. Blankets and a puffy quilt are required for me to get any amount of sleep at night. She kicks off the blankets because she’s “so hot.” It’s an eternal struggle.
Years ago when my wife’s parents were in Florida for the winter, we’d go down to visit them over Christmas or during February vacation. The temperatures were typically in the low to mid- 60s – for us, comfortable. But I’d go for a morning walk and pass the shuffleboard courts where residents would be wrapped up in parkas, along with hats and mittens.
It was amusing – then. Now, I’ve become them.
The upper 60s in our living room amounts to chilly. My fingers get cold and I need heavier socks. I suppose wearing a ski cap is a step too far and would elicit derisive comments from across the room.
Our daughter, though, is much like me. When she’s home for a period in the winter, she’ll drag out a puffy quilt and cover herself up, seldom emerging unless it’s an emergency. I inform my wife that “the hothouse orchid” is coming home for the holidays, so get used to setting the furnace higher. If I don’t do it, our daughter will. She isn’t shy that way.
I grew up in an old Colonial house in the sleepy village of East Sullivan in the southwest corner of New Hampshire. It was usually cold in the winter and, coupled with my mother’s inherent frugality, necessitated many layers of warm clothing. The request for a little heat from any of us would receive a standard “go put on a sweater.” We’d already be wearing one, but that was beside the point.
One evening my parents were entertaining a group of friends. In the course of the gathering, my mother remarked to my father, “It’s a little chilly in the house, don’t you think?” He suggested, with just the slightest trace of a smile, she “should go put on a sweater.”
In the retelling, my mother was indignant: “Do you know what your father said to me?” My brother, sister and I all thought it hilarious.
And so, as our beloved Patriots sit at a dismal 1-2 and once again Drake Maye is doing his best “deer-in-the-headlights”; as the Red Sox are heading into a playoff series in New York, of all places; it’s time to confront the “do we” or “don’t we” question.
With just a day until Oct.1, it’s clear sailing. But the forecast says we have a wave of summer temperatures coming our way so the heat on/off question would anyway be a moot point.
Still, it’s nice to know that finally, if I need to turn on the heat, I can do so without retribution. It will be nice and warm and comfy – until we get the first fuel bill.
Tom Walters is a retired music teacher and school arts administrator. Reach him at tomwalters729@gmail.com.