Warmth

Bob came downstairs Friday morning while I was sitting at the computer answering email, and I reached out and touched his hand, and he felt how cold my hands were. He told me I should be wearing my Wristers, and I put them on, but they didn't really help a lot. And it's hard to type with them on.

My desk is up at the front of the house, on the north side, right by the dining room windows. I suppose I could move it, but there isn't a really good place, and anyway, the cable comes through there--if I moved, I'd have to have the cable moved, too, and that's more than I'm willing to contemplate at the moment. So I put up with it, and try to dress warmly.

Later that morning, Bob called and said he had gone out and bought me a little space heater to sit under my desk. I was delighted! It works beautifully, and I've spent the weekend toasty warm--such a wonderful change! I don't know why we never thought of it before; I think he's a little afraid that it will turn out to increase our electric bill a lot, and I never realized that you could get such a small one.

Pyewacket's no dummy. She's figured out the warmest spot in the house:

I have an ottoman underneath my desk, and generally sit with my feet up. Now I have to remember to check every time I get up from the desk, or I'll step right on her.