The Change of Seasons

Well, autumn is definitely upon us. We've had one of the loveliest Septembers on record, I'm sure, and Environment Canada is telling us we're about to have a lovely October as well.

Nevertheless, the temperature is dropping. And with that change comes a new settling-in of two people who haven't lived together in a winter before - Boyfriend and me.

Boyfriend is a nudist. He likes his boys to swing freely in the (warm) breezes. He has already compromised, though I'm sure his heart is aching, in that we don't yet have curtains up in the living room to block the view of the - ahem - swingset. He's generously given me till Christmas to make a set of curtains, after which he'll pay someone to make the curtains for us. And I figure if I can't make a set of curtains by Christmas, it's time to give the sewing machine away!

But back to my poor, inconvenienced Boyfriend.

Being a nudist, he likes the house warm.

I'm a woman in her fifties. Can you say "hot flash!?"

For two nights running, I've slept beautifully. That's because the temperature has finally dropped down to about 18 at night and I've put the down-filled duvet on the bed. I'm warm and cosy beneath the covers, and the air is cool and soothing around me. All is right with my world.

Trouble is, Boyfriend gets up at five o'clock in the morning. I get up around nine, or ten, or maybe eleven...

He has a deviated septum, and so is sensitive to cold air, and he was completely stuffed up and sneezing and blowing his nose, waiting for me to get up so he could put on the heat, even though it's HIS house.

Can you say, "Awwwww...?"

When I surfaced at nine this morning, Boyfriend had been up, shivering, for four hours. He'd wrapped himself in the quilt that's on the sofa. He'd come in to get his winter housecoat, his slippers, his warm socks. I got up to pee, and quickly realized it was !*$%# freezing in the house, and told him to put the heat up.

I quickly ascertained that he was a block of ice and offered to make him porridge. He looked up at me with the grateful eyes of a child about to cry. Porridge and buttered toast were comfort foods from when he was a wee bairn. I got them in front of him and saw even his hands were clenched with the cold. Poor bunny! Even I, immune as I am to the "suffering" of males, was moved to pity!

So we've now decided that when he gets up he's allowed to put the heat on, and we'll just close off the outlet in the bedroom and see how that works.

I'll keep you posted on the further trials and tribulations of settling in!