It’s Sunday morning, and it’s 34 degrees outside. I haven’t turned on the air conditioning in over a month, and I’ve yet to turn on the heat since we moved here. Of course, the weather has been fairly moderate. But in the condo now it’s 67 degrees, the lowest it’s ever been in here. The president asked us to keep our thermostats in the winter at 68, so I’m doing him one degree better. (It was President Nixon, admittedly, but I don’t believe his successors ever rescinded the request.)
My theory is that the units around us are paying for our heating and cooling. They moderate our quarters’ temperature since we adjoin them at two sides and at the ceiling. Sad to say, we have our own water heater. And when Victoria wakes up, she may make me try out the heat. Maybe she’ll sleep late — its supposed to get into the 50’s today — or maybe I’ll turn on that lamp against the thermostat.
It’s our first fall in a condo. So far, so good. As my fellow boomer and new condo resident Abby Imus said on the front page of today’s Washington Post, “There’s not one thing I miss about my house.”