It’s that time of year again. That time when, for some unknown reason, regardless of how the thermostat is set, my bedroom is about 3 degrees cooler than Hell. On a good day.
The fan doesn’t do much to cool down the room at night. He can only clap so fast. And the cheering is very distracting. So we sleep with the windows open. In December. It helps a little. We’re down to about the temperature of the Sahara in summer. So that’s an improvement.
This morning, the kids all showered before heading up to grandma and grandpa’s to do Christmas. In hindsight, this should have been planned out better. There are like 47 kids living here, all of which are teenage, or just preteen. Tween, or whatever you call it. The name isn’t important. It’s the fact that the all take like 45 minute showers, with the hot water on full.
After approximately 35.25 hours of showers, it was finally my turn. As I strolled to the bathroom, I started belting out White Christmas. It continued as I attempted to step into the shower. As I stepped into the shower and just as quickly hopped back out, the lyrics changed to “I’m dreaming of a warm shower…” The family downstairs even paused their movie to listen to my beautiful crooning.
After waiting for the water to heat back up, I strolled back upstairs, continuing the song exactly where I had left off. The song continued through the whole shower. (If you’re wondering what it’s like to like in my house, it’s this. All day. Every day.)
As I returned to the bedroom to get dressed, the singing continued. The tune switched from “I’m Dreaming of a Warm Shower” to “Blue Christmas.” The Elvis Presley version, naturally. It’s one of my favorite Christmas songs. As the song went on, I sang louder and louder. More and more Elvis sounding. What can I say, I was in my groove.
It wasn’t until I heard the dog next door barking and howling, repeatedly, that I remembered the windows were open. (I’m sure it had nothing to do with the quality of my singing. He ain’t nothing but a hound dog. What does he know about music?) If the dog was outside howling and barking, presumably because he could hear me, reason says all the neighbors could hear it, too. And with the gusto with which I was performing, I’m sure it carried to most of the neighborhood.
All I can say is It. Was. Glorious. You’re welcome, neighbors. You’re welcome for the free Christmas cheer. Merry Christmas!