Sunday, August 7, 2011

Life with Jake….You’re Letting the Cold Air Out!

I recently decided to write a few blogs about Jake, my dad.  The stories are unusual (or not) and sometimes, mildly entertaining, at least to our family members.  We don’t always call him by his name, we do call him Dad.  But when we want to make a point about his behavior, we call him Jake.

In my previous post I explained how fanatical my dad is about swapping air of varying temperatures, specifically the mixing of outdoor air with indoor air.  I made reference to his comment about letting the cold air inside the house escape when we opened the door.

I feel at this point I must define “cold air” in my parents’ house. “Cold air” in their house is relative.  The analogy I like to use here is similar to one of my favorite lines in the movie “A Christmas Story”.  Ralphie was narrating the scene where his dad was changing a flat tire.  He stated that his dad’s idea of a tire was "one that was round and had previously been made of rubber".  I laugh heartily every time I hear that line, but I digress.  So, keeping that in mind, we can move back to the cold air in my parents’ house.  Cold air in their house means the air inside the house is slightly cooler than the air outside the house by let’s say, 5 degrees.  My dad has become very cold natured as he has aged; therefore, he keeps the temperature in the house warm, even in the summer.  Jake’s all year round sleep attire usually includes a scarf, toboggan and earmuffs. To those of us who are no longer cold natured (due to an ugly phase of life called men-o-pause), it is extremely warm in the house.

As we prepared for bed on the first night of our recent visit, Jake stated he was going to turn the air down, which means he was going to allow it to get colder in the house.  I was excited!  It meant that I didn’t have to strip to the bare minimum in order to sleep that night.  To be polite, I stated that it was unnecessary.  Jake’s rebuff, “I’ll turn it down to 80 at least”.  At that point, I fainted and remember little else until I awoke later in the night.  It was hot; I was hot.  Actually, I was melting.  I opened my bedroom door, located the thermostat in the hallway and moved the lever lower down the line….to an icy 77 degrees.

The next morning, my dad emerges from his bedroom dressed for a visit to Santa at the North Pole.  We looked at him as though he had corn growing from his ears. He looked ridiculous dressed that way in the middle of summer, when the temperatures are soaring to the 100 degree mark on a daily basis.  He stated he was freezing and wanted to know who turned down the thermostat.  Fearful of swift retribution, everyone quickly stated that it was not them.  I knew I had to confess and suffer the consequences of violating the house rule of never touching Jake’s thermostat.  I raised a sweaty palm and told him I had moved the thermostat.  I received the outdoor/indoor - cooling/heating lecture and watched as he inched the thermostat dangerously close to 85 degrees. 

Tonight, I will sleep in the company of the 7 fans I purchased at Wal-Mart; he will sleep in his earmuffs, and all will be right with the world!

I’m just sayin’,


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