Generally speaking I'm cold, complete with purple fingers and toes. I'm about to freeze to death, really. My most perfect temperature is about eighty degrees. Scientific studies have shown that I function better when I'm in eighty degree air. The scientific study being me messing around with the heating system in my car until I found the optimal temperature for my comfort, of course.
On the other hand, my husband is usually hot. I'd give you a more accurate description of him being hot, but I don't believe I've ever experienced being hot. Can't really explain something that I've never experienced, but I believe he functions better in forty degree air.
Saturday night we decided to take the girls and their friends to the drive-in movie. It was a double feature of Brave and Madagascar 3, both must see movies for my girls and their homies. Into the Honda went assorted lawn chairs, snacks (both sweet and salty), drinks, a couple of games to play while we waited for the sun to go down, and sweatshirts for the kids and me.
Oh, and I tossed in my Wonder Woman snuggie.
My husband was appalled. Evidently the mere idea of me sporting both a sweatshirt and a Wonder Woman snuggie when the temperature is around seventy, seventy-five degrees upset his equilibrium.
Or he was embarrassed about being seen sitting next to someone completely ensconced in a Wonder Woman snuggie, which is further proof that we don't come from the same Easter basket.
Husband: What. Are. You. Doing?
Me: Bringing my snuggie.
Husband: Why?
Me: In case I get cold.
Husband: But you are bringing a sweatshirt.
Me: Yep. A sweatshirt and a snuggie aught to do it … wait. Do you think I should put on jeans?
Husband: What?! Why would you need jeans, a sweatshirt, and a snuggie? The temperature is only going to get down to sixty-eight degrees tonight. That's perfect shorts weather.
Me: Yeah, well, sounds kinda chilly to me so I'm going to snuggie up. Don't want to die of exposure at the drive-in.
I made it about halfway through the first movie before I put on my sweatshirt and reached for my Wonder Woman snuggie. That's a personal best, people. My husband rolled his eyes and scooted his lawn chair away from mine, wanting no part of me or my snuggie. Pfft. Whatever.
I had my snuggie, a bag of homemade Chex Mix, and a big Diet Coke. I was a happy girl.
With about thirty minutes left to go in the second movie, a miracle happened. Well, not so much a miracle, but a triumph for me. A major triumph.
My husband casually leaned over and asked me if I packed him a sweatshirt or a blanket (not a snuggie, never a snuggie). It seems that homeboy was chilly.
Ah ha! Score one for the cold people. The sweatshirt wearing snuggie lovers. The 'ridiculous' ones who insist upon turning on the heated mattress cover in July (don't judge me, I'm cold).
The score is now Jen: 1, Husband: 41, 582.
I'm creeping up on him.
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