Each time I take a peak at the temperature on the thermostat I try to convince myself it's not that cold, and I can live without cranking the heat up.
So when it was reading 67 last night I reminded myself that my father pays good money to turn his thermostat down to 68 each night before they go to bed, and here we were getting it free of charge.
After some hemming and hawing, Charlie got tired of hearing about it and feeling my icey fingers on his neck, and insisted we turn on the heat. Nothing better than standing over the vent and watching my pajama legs fill with hot air!
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