It’s cold in my house.
It’s a 100-year old (at least) Victorian set on top of a hill near the Carquinez strait. Strong winds have been known to blow in off the water, which doesn’t help on 50-degree Northern California days.
It’s not that cold that bothers me. I’m from Detroit. I embrace outside cold. It’s the heaters in my house. They don’t work. Actually, I should say they do work, they just don’t heat anything outside of a three-foot radius directly in front of them.
Instead, my two roommates and I have turned to space heaters for bedroom warmth. Trouble with space heaters is that don’t want them on at night. That would just waste electricity and give those bastards at Pacific Gas and Electric a few more dollars out of our pockets.
So in the sleeping hours, it can get down to about 55 degrees in my room.
I wake up a little bit before noon, under two blankets and over two pillows, and I lay in bed wishing I didn’t have to get up at all. It’s that indoor chill that I loathe so much, combined with anticipation of those few seconds when that frost hits my naked chest and legs. I hate that moment more than any other in the day. And on one hand, it can’t get any worse, but on the other, the day has already gone to hell.
But I’ve gotten out of bed these last three weeks with little problem, willing to brave the cold and hit the bathroom, then come back into my room, strip down and step on the scale.
In the moment before I climb on, I am convinced that this is the day I’ll have a major breakthrough. In those moments, I weigh at least two pounds less than I did the day before. I am already forming the blog entry for that night, trying to word my bragging just so, so it seems like I am a person who knows what he is doing.
After I get on the scale, I watch the three dashes on the LCS display screen. It’s interesting how this works. Three dashes in a row like Morse Code, representing the numbers I’ll eventually see. They bounce on and off for a few seconds, not willing to reveal my fate. Is it a good day? Is it a bad day? Only the dashes know for sure.
Inevitably they relent, and usually the room gets a little colder.
I’ve stayed the same. I’ve gained a pound somehow while I was sleeping. I’ve lost maybe two-tenths, a negligible number.
Article comments
1 - ECM
space heaters are little electricity vacuums (that cause fires and possibly carbon monoxide poisoning) but you could get a safe flat panel heater which uses the same power as a normal light bulb. You could mount one to the wall by your bed to stay warmer during the night or put it on the floor where you step out onto your cold floor. Hope I could help (maybe you'll sweat off some weight too! :) ) Good luck in your endeavors.
2 - Guy
Here's a crazy idea to help make those frosty Northern California mornings a bit more bearable: where some freaking clothes to sleep. I'm pretty sure a t-shirt or even a long sleeve t-shirt isn't going to irritate your skin to the point of psoriasis overnight. Pajama pants cost $5 at Target- go get some.
As for the daily weigh ins- I'm in agreement. Everyday will drive you crazy. I might consider twice a week- once on Sunday and once on Wednesday just so you can guage the progress - but once a week should work.
It's interesting to see how the math always works out. According to your formula you should be down 11.5 lbs so far - and you're very close in terms of the actual weigh in. A bunch of variables could account for that mysterious 1.5 lbs. But over time the math always wins out.
Keep up the good work. And as for Purple Tigress and her last posted comment: Dan probably has too many emotional issues to deal with for only 1 blog. But sorting this part of his life out would be going a long way to resolve a bunch of them. After this: the blog about finding a respectable and lasting romantic relationship.