Climate Control

I have come to the conclusion that my husband knows. He knows the precise moment when I'm just barely getting comfortable. I don't say anything to alert him of this, and there is no change in body language. But he knows.

There have been multiple instances when we get into the car, it's freezing outside, and so I turn the temperature dial as far as I can down the red line. With my arms and legs covered in goose bumps, I sit there and try to warm up. Five to ten minutes later, when I finally start to feel warmth returning to my body Derek reaches over and turns the dial toward the blue line. I am not warm yet. I was just barely beginning to feel a little bit of relief from the terrible cold! It's like there's this little evil voice inside of him that convinces him that he is too warm and needs to turn the temperature down. 

But what about me? The poor, freezing person in the passenger seat? I usually suck it up and look forward to the moment when we can go inside and I can grab a blanket and curl up on the couch. But until then, how I hate that little evil voice. 

If there is one thing that I demand on having in our car (once we are all rich and famous and such) it will be his and hers climate controls. Until then, wish me luck.