Dear Doofus

 

 Domestic Thermostat Warfare

DEAR Doofus: My husband, "Calvin," treats our central thermostat like a nuclear launch code. The moment autumn arrives, he locks the controls at a punishing 62 degrees and declares that paying for heat is "subsidizing thermal weakness." Abby, I am sitting in our living room wearing thermal long johns, a fleece hoodie, wool socks, and fingerless gloves, watching my breath plume while reading a book. When I ask to raise the temperature to a humane 68 degrees, Calvin gives me a lecture on arctic explorers, puts another log on a nonexistent fire, and hands me a scratchy wool blanket he bought at an army surplus sale. He claims that shivering burns calories and builds moral character. I am tired of living in a municipal meat locker. What is the diplomatic solution before I defrost myself by torching his favorite recliner? — FROZEN IN FARGO

DEAR FROZEN: Put away the matches, though I admire your fiery spirit. Calvin has confused marital cohabitation with naval survival school, and it is time to thaw his stubborn dogmatism.

First, dispel his romantic notion of moral character. Frostbite does not build fortitude; it merely builds resentment and extravagant dry-cleaning bills for parkas worn at dinner. Establish a bilateral domestic treaty immediately: the household baseline will be set permanently at 68 degrees, a universally recognized human standard.

 

To satisfy his militant thriftiness, agree that if the utility bill rises by more than twenty dollars, you will offset the cost by shaving a few luxuries from the grocery budget—starting, naturally, with his favorite craft beer. Nothing warms a man’s perspective quite like the chilling prospect of budget lagers.

Furthermore, invest in a smart thermostat with individual smartphone access. If he attempts a surreptitious midnight adjustment, set up an automatic notification that triggers a blast of the Russian national anthem through your smart speakers. If all else fails, purchase an electric heated blanket and exile Calvin to sleep on the leather sofa, where he may commune with his beloved arctic heroes in solitary hypothermic bliss.18