It's true... I just cannot do anything when Pat is around. Somehow, the multi-tasking, uber-industrious, checklist-following, type A person that I am turns into a ball of extreme laziness and sloth when my husband is in the vicinity.
The problem is not the husband, per se. I lay all the blame on me, and this incessant need for cuddles. I have to admit, I am a freaking cuddle fiend. I'll cuddle Pat everywhere and this affliction is very bad for those weekends when things need to be done at home.
The thing is, he is more that happy to oblige. For Pat, being lazy comes naturally. He's not a slob, nor does he not help around (my husband is well trained) . But cuddling together comes so easy and spontaneous for both of us.
But during those times when he is off somewhere I turn into a superwoman. I finish errands, get things done and still have time to laze around.
Case in point, this morning. Pat decided to go out and take pictures of Rice Lake in Lynn Valley.
In those 3 hours that he was gone, I managed to:
1. Do the laundry
2. Mop the floors
3. Clean the toilets (we have 4)
4. Vacuum the living room
5. Dust the entire house
6. Sort the recycles
7. Take a shower
8. Surf Perezhilton.com (Britney was committed, y'all)
9. Read emails
10. Finish my French class homework
11. Gossip with my friend, Chat
12. Made plans for the evening
13. Cleaned out the fridge
14. Went out to Timmy's and bought myself a coffee, bagel with cream cheese and 2 donuts
I rest my case. Cuddling makes me not want to do anything but cuddle.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
The fight for heat - a negotiation exercise
I don't like being cold. I hate it with such passion. My husband knows this and so does everyone else in my family, our friends and relatives. During our honeymoon in Italy, I was comfortable in the sweltering humid hotness of Rome in about 30 degree C weather and my husband was just about ready to melt in a puddle of wasted heat.
Vancouver is in the midst of its coldest winter since 1956. And it sure is damn cold. So cold that in the mornings I am transported back to that year in 2001, when I used to live in my cold, damp, one bedroom unheated apartment at Yonge and Eglington, trying to stay warm in my threadbare pajamas under a heap of blankets. Back then, heating was a luxury for me (yes, I was not paid much back then). I tolerated it because I could not afford the cost and was still paying for the heating bill that I racked up the year before, amounting to several hundreds of dollars. How was I supposed to know that heating up an old building made of bricks in Toronto would cost me that much money? To add injury to the insult, when I moved to Vancouver, I threw all my waffle warmers and all my thick tights and long johns away, thinking I never have to use them anymore. I sorely regret that move. I found myself stealing my brother's waffle warmers this week and in the mornings layering up 3 socks before heading to work.
But my office is an exception. Because I am oblivious to the cost of heating and more concerned about being productive from 9 - 5 rather than keeping warm, the first thing I do when I enter my office is to make sure the thermostat is cranked up to 26C. Yes, I can hear you gasp with displeasure... I know this is indulgent but what can I do? I am from the Tropics dammit! I want to be warm and comfy and not turn to a Flipsicle (get it, lol!) This nasty habit had gone on for a few weeks and I was happy.
So imagine my annoyance when I found out that my thermostat controls the whole floor's heating. Unbeknown to me, my co-workers have been boiling the past weeks to the point where one of the developers threatened to wear shorts in the dead of winter or take his shirt off. Emails were sent to our VP. A mutiny was called; a mass protest was assembled. The building folks were called in to find out where the heat is coming from.
After pouring over the building's wiring blueprint, they located the culprit thermostat... it's in my office. I had good intel that this is going to happen so I prepared myself. I was not ready to give up my heat.
Here's the conversation in my office that day:
Office Manager: Ms. Viever do you know that your thermostat controls the whole floor's heating system?
Me: No.
Office Manager: Well it does and everyone thinks it's too hot. Can you bring in down to 20C?
Me: No.
Office Manager: Why not? That's the ideal room temperature. It's not too hot, not too cold. It's perfect.
Me: Yes it's perfect, if you're a polar bear. Do I look like a polar bear to you? I am a small girl and I need all the heat I can get. I don't want to be cold while working. Look at me, I am wearing my jacket inside the office.
Office Manager: Yeah well, everyone is too hot at that temperature. You need to bring it down... In fact, let me do it for you. I'll crank it down, OK?
Me: Step away from the thermostat or so help me God...
At this point, there is a small group of curious developers starting to assemble in my front door... Overhearing the conversation, they decided to join in to the drama.
Dev1: C'mon, give us 20.
Me: No.
Dev2: 22?
Me: No.
Dev1: 23 and a space heater?
Me: How big?
Dev1: Big enough.
Me. Done.
Truth to be told, I was Ok with 20C. I am not a selfish person and I understand the repercussions of co-workers threatening to go semi-naked at work. I have my granny sweater with me and ready to wear it at work if I get cold and shivery. But I am a brat and I very rarely exercise my brattiness at work. I've always been nice and accommodating.
It's the heat, man... It got to me.
Vancouver is in the midst of its coldest winter since 1956. And it sure is damn cold. So cold that in the mornings I am transported back to that year in 2001, when I used to live in my cold, damp, one bedroom unheated apartment at Yonge and Eglington, trying to stay warm in my threadbare pajamas under a heap of blankets. Back then, heating was a luxury for me (yes, I was not paid much back then). I tolerated it because I could not afford the cost and was still paying for the heating bill that I racked up the year before, amounting to several hundreds of dollars. How was I supposed to know that heating up an old building made of bricks in Toronto would cost me that much money? To add injury to the insult, when I moved to Vancouver, I threw all my waffle warmers and all my thick tights and long johns away, thinking I never have to use them anymore. I sorely regret that move. I found myself stealing my brother's waffle warmers this week and in the mornings layering up 3 socks before heading to work.
But my office is an exception. Because I am oblivious to the cost of heating and more concerned about being productive from 9 - 5 rather than keeping warm, the first thing I do when I enter my office is to make sure the thermostat is cranked up to 26C. Yes, I can hear you gasp with displeasure... I know this is indulgent but what can I do? I am from the Tropics dammit! I want to be warm and comfy and not turn to a Flipsicle (get it, lol!) This nasty habit had gone on for a few weeks and I was happy.
So imagine my annoyance when I found out that my thermostat controls the whole floor's heating. Unbeknown to me, my co-workers have been boiling the past weeks to the point where one of the developers threatened to wear shorts in the dead of winter or take his shirt off. Emails were sent to our VP. A mutiny was called; a mass protest was assembled. The building folks were called in to find out where the heat is coming from.
After pouring over the building's wiring blueprint, they located the culprit thermostat... it's in my office. I had good intel that this is going to happen so I prepared myself. I was not ready to give up my heat.
Here's the conversation in my office that day:
Office Manager: Ms. Viever do you know that your thermostat controls the whole floor's heating system?
Me: No.
Office Manager: Well it does and everyone thinks it's too hot. Can you bring in down to 20C?
Me: No.
Office Manager: Why not? That's the ideal room temperature. It's not too hot, not too cold. It's perfect.
Me: Yes it's perfect, if you're a polar bear. Do I look like a polar bear to you? I am a small girl and I need all the heat I can get. I don't want to be cold while working. Look at me, I am wearing my jacket inside the office.
Office Manager: Yeah well, everyone is too hot at that temperature. You need to bring it down... In fact, let me do it for you. I'll crank it down, OK?
Me: Step away from the thermostat or so help me God...
At this point, there is a small group of curious developers starting to assemble in my front door... Overhearing the conversation, they decided to join in to the drama.
Dev1: C'mon, give us 20.
Me: No.
Dev2: 22?
Me: No.
Dev1: 23 and a space heater?
Me: How big?
Dev1: Big enough.
Me. Done.
Truth to be told, I was Ok with 20C. I am not a selfish person and I understand the repercussions of co-workers threatening to go semi-naked at work. I have my granny sweater with me and ready to wear it at work if I get cold and shivery. But I am a brat and I very rarely exercise my brattiness at work. I've always been nice and accommodating.
It's the heat, man... It got to me.
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