It seems to be one of the Rules of the Universe that people who need ten hours sleep always marry folks who can get by on six. Pack-rats always end up with mates who toss out anything not nailed down. And, of course, people who like it cold marry people who like it warm.
I have low thyroid, and as a result, I am always cold. The Squire is a one-man blast furnace. One year on vacation, we stayed over night in a suite – the bedroom was large enough to hold a square dance, plus a small kitchen/living room combination. There was a noticeable drop in the temperature when I walked out of the bedroom. He could heat a small office all by himself. I sleep under a quilt, and he has just the sheet – and we are side by side in the bed!
We live in an old farm house, which was not built, so much as accumulated, and it is time to install the window air conditioners. This is always fun. We have one in the living room, which cools both that room and the dining room – really just one very long space, about 15 by 35 feet. There is a second unit in our bedroom, and a third in the room which serves as a guest room, sewing room and TV room. Only the one in our room has an actual thermostat; all the others are cool, cold and arctic.
He sets the one in the bedroom at 69. I nudge it up to 75. He wakes in up the middle of the night and puts it back down, and so it goes. I’m sorry, but I simply refuse to spend the summer wearing a hooded house coat (with the hood pulled up), sleeping under the quilt and a blanket folded in half, while he snuggles under the sheet.
By popular request, he has decamped to the guest room for the time being.
thisendoftheswamp 
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