I woke up at 9:30 a.m. today, and that is approximately eleven hours of glorious sleep. The only reason I even left the bed was because my husband got up, and I couldn’t bear the cold room without his warm body next to me. I have mentioned that I have refused to turn the heat on in the house, right? But did I also say that my husband still insists on turning the fan on full blast at night? Waking up is a beast.

So after a hot shower I promptly planted myself in our recliner by the fire, underneath a blanket, and commenced reading. Four days ago I realized that the library book I checked out for book club, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, was due in two days and I had barely even begun. It’s not up for renewal since there is a waiting list, and I want to minimize my fines. I spent the next few hours finishing the book, which was quite good, but by the end my nose and fingers were too cold for comfort.

I steeled myself and marched out to the garage, where David was busily cleaning his truck. I announced my presence and stated, “I came to tell you that I think it’s time we turn the heat on inside.” I expected cheers, hugs, and falling at my feet. He had, after all, been asking to turn the heat on for the past two weeks. Instead, I got an adamant “NO!” Not quite what I had in mind.

I argued that today was the first time I’d been home all day and just could not get warm. I promised that we’d still sleep close at night. I rationalized that we’d have to turn it on eventually. But apparently my principles have rubbed off on him these past weeks, and he told me to suck it up, put on more clothes, and move around to get warm.

Back inside, grumpy yet strangely proud, I put on another sweater and decided to take on a cooking project to raise my body temperature. Since we already had dinner plans, I figured I’d prepare a slow cooker meal that I could turn on the next morning before work and that way we’d have a hot meal when I get home tomorrow night. So I started working on this beef stew, which I had been planning to try soon anyway. Only problem was I didn’t realize how long it would take, and in the middle of it I discovered I didn’t have time to finish before we had to leave. Into the refrigerator it all went, and the meal will just have to be postponed another day.

We went to our dinner exchange meal at Scott and Vanessa’s, and this time David’s best friend, his wife, and their two children came too. I’m afraid I wasn’t much company in that I started getting sleepy around 6:30 p.m. and barely rubbed two words together the entire evening. But I did quite enjoy watching my husband interact with 7-year-old Gwen and 4-year-old Jacob. They made up a game called “Nice To Meet You” in which they shook hands and took turns saying, “Nice to meet you ________.” Any word could go in the blank, any word at all. The only rule was you couldn’t duplicate. You can imagine how long this could last, and it did. At least 30 minutes straight. I’m not sure who had more fun, the kids or David. One thing is for sure, I can’t wait to make him a dad.

Sadly, I have to work again this weekend. I would much rather be braving the chilly air at home with my husband, even if it meant frozen fingers and noses.