My husband and I must have had conversations about the temperature of the house daily. It’s winter, I’m cold and want it warmer, he’s comfortable and it’s fine. It’s summer and I’m finally warm, he’s too hot and wants it cooler. Around and around and around.
67 degrees? 68 degrees? 70? 72? Comfort. Cost. Management.
And then it happened. The solution.
We went on vacation and realized we left the heat on full bore. (Usually, we drop the heat when we aren’t home.) I called my mom and asked if she could turn the heat down for us.
We came home and our thermostat read 20 degrees. Huh, Celsius now, eh? No one has yet to figure out how to get it back to Fahrenheit.
Interestingly, it killed any conversation splitting hairs on temperature, and we found a temperature we are both comfortable living with.
We remain willfully ignorant of what this temperature is in Fahrenheit so as to continue the peace.