I’m sitting at my computer, looking out the bleary window at the needle-rain outside. I am forced to stay here and continue to type since I do not want to leave the only warm room in the house. No central heating here in our Tokyo home, and it’s FREEZING downstairs. I trot downstairs to search for chocolate. “It’s not cold,” drawls Joel, stretched out on the couch, laptop on his lap. I put my frigid fingers on his chest just to prove my point and he sucks in air through his teeth. Doesn’t yell though, cuz that would validate my statement. Instead, he asks me to get his soda pop out of the freezer where it’s been chilling. Brrr! I need mittens just to pick the bottle up. How can he drink freezing soda on a day like this? I quickly put my down jacket on over my turtleneck and sweater, shuffle over to the couch in my poofy slippers and hand him his ice-cold refreshment.
I’m guessing that our fridge is running very efficiently right about now, since the temperature in there is about the same as the temperature in the kitchen. By the time I get back upstairs (with my down jacket on) my fingers are so cold and stiff, that I can’t type… so I sit on my hands for a while. At least my butt is still relatively warm. I’m realizing that I am a reptile who has married a mammal. Of course, his warmth is one of the reasons I did marry him in the first place, so now I must resign myself to these inevitable temperature negotiations. Living with a hottie has its drawbacks.