Yes, I've said that many a time. Like when I'm at a Titans football game and I've decided my toes are permanently frozen and will never reach 98.6 again. Or, perhaps, during the "spring" consignment sale where it is typically 12 below zero at midnight when we finally leave. Yes, I've said it..."I'd rather be hot than cold, at least you can cool off, but when you're cold, sometimes you just can't get warm"
Well, my friends, last night I ate those words. You see, around 4pm yesterday, I noticed the house was warm. We are one of those people who keep the thermostat at 72 degrees and don't move it. Jonathan swears he is "freezing" each night to which I promptly tell him it feels great in here and get over it. In our new, old house, the thermostat is one of those where you set the temp for a certain number of days, so I ASSUMED that it needed to be reset which I promptly did.
Jonathan got home around 6pm and noted that it was indeed, well, HOT in our house and began assessing the problem. "It's blowing cold air," he said. I went into our tiny 20 sq. feet master bath and reassured him that it was not blowing cold air. Jonathan, AKA Bob the Builder, assured me that it was fine and that because it had gotten so hot, it would just take a while to cool off. Sure it would.
By 8pm, I noticed that my skin was literally beginning to drip off (that's a joke) so I told him it was time to call someone. Bob called Ed the Builder (my dad) and they determined that indeed, the unit was not even turning on. Next call: our home warranty place. Blah, blah, blah...someone will call you back within 24 hours. Excuse me? 24 hours?
So, last night, we toughed it out and slept peacefully (note sarcasm here) in our 82 degree house. It was, well, warm. I think I determined around 2:12am that I would indeed rather be cold than hot.
Repairman is supposed to be here between 10 and 12. Who wants to make bets on what time he will actually show up?