Heat me baby one more time

I love the heat. I genuinely think I must be cold blooded, like a reptile. I need the heat, I lament the lack of heat in the winter months. And the spring and autumn months. Occasionally during the summer months too.

And yet the other evening as I floated in my own sweat, trying to drift off to sleep, I thought that perhaps the heat was even too much for me. The duvet might have been a bit much in retrospect, but I like the reassurance of being covered while I snooze. The cat can’t get me while I’m swaddled.

I immediately rejected the thought that the heat was too much – in fact I came around to the opposite way of thinking. I lay there in the dark, my face glistening in the moonlight, and considered how much it will cost me in a mere month or two to get the house back to its current temperature. Now I’m just trying to absorb as much of this free Celsius as I can.