Tales from a tired stupor...

First, a little background info on our house: the day we came to sign the lease on our house, our landlords just went on and on about what a great house it is and that it's insulated so well that the utility bills were incredibly reasonable. Well, after living here for a short while, we decided on our own that 1) it was a great house, but 2) that our landlords must live in a tent if this is their idea of "great insulation." In fact, I can remember that last summer (which was a particularly warm summer for Chicago), even with the AC set at 65, it was pretty much impossible to get the house any cooler than 85 degrees during the day. I think at night we could get it down to about 82. But I digress.

Our house is set up with the three bedrooms running down the side of the house. Eric's room is in the front, ours is in the middle, and the back room is the office. For some reason, the front and back rooms do not get the same share of the heat that the middle room gets. So, in order to make sure the baby isn't getting frost bite, we have to turn the heat so that it's Africa Hot™ in our room. This little problem seems to be getting better as the weather gradually gets nicer, though.

So, last night, I fell asleep on the couch in my clothes. I didn't wake up until Chris' alarm went off at 4:something a.m. I dragged my ass into the bedroom and was just barely able to convince myself to change out of my clothes into pajamas. Except that it was Africa Hot™ and my clothes were too heavy to continue wearing.

After laying in bed for approximately 17 seconds, I decided that there was no possible way I was going to be able to sleep comfortably--especially considering that I like the weight of the covers on me while I sleep. I thought, "Hey...maybe I should just open the window." But that would require me to get out of bed... and... I'm... so... t...i...r...e...d.

Then I had an idea: Maybe I could reach the window with my foot, part the vertical blinds and grab the crank between my big toe and second toe. And, like a monkey, I could open the window that way. I mean, the window is only a couple feet away from my side of the bed. Well, luckily, before I got a chance to try that tactic (which probably would have resulted in my falling out of the bed), the alarm went off again and Chris got up. I asked him to go turn down the thermostat, which he did. I'm not sure why I didn't ask him to open the window. I think part of me doesn't want to give up hope that the monkey-leg plan could work someday.