Though this morning's temperature dropped to the 30s, I still haven't turned on the heat in the upstairs bedrooms. Tony, still convalescing on the main floor, turned the heat on weeks ago.
While upstairs, I am content to wear a jacket and socks, and turn on the space heater next to my desk when absolutely necessary. My no-heat sacrifice is worth the deep sleep under a sheet, a blanket, a down filled blanket and an extra soft lap blanket.
I close my eyes and after a minute or two, my body heats up and warms my little cocoon.
Ahhhh. I slumber quickly.
When I awake in the morning and pull back the covers, I'm shocked at the world outside my blankets. Cold. I head downstairs to make granola, to heat up the oven, bake oats, then let it hang open and let its warmth float through the house.
But most the time, I delay getting out of bed. This may be, in part, the reason why I like a cold bedroom--I can stay in bed longer.
Each morning when I awake, it reminds me of two times when I slept in cold places without heat.
The first memory is of a few days in Northern India, in an ashram, the strangest place I've ever slept. I was expecting a nice yoga retreat: calming, love abounding, healthy food. But what I stumbled onto was a bad dream. A crumbling compound with chalky food, a mean yoga teacher, and a room without heat or warm water.
As one to embrace adventure, I took quick cold showers, stayed under the covers in my coat and hat, and braved the tasteless food. I rolled with the mean yoga teacher and applied it to "Life's lessons."
And it was the month of January.
The second memory is of a writing retreat that my teaching partner Deb and me, took ten students for two nights. It was to a cabin and guest house in a snow covered mountainous valley.
It was the month of January.
Deb and I flipped coins to see which one of us would sleep in the guesthouse. The main house only had enough beds for students and one teacher. I won. Or so I thought.
The first night I discovered the heat didn't work. When I notified the landlords, they had forgotten to mention this minor lifesaving detail.
As one to embrace adventure, I gathered the space heaters in the main house, and Deb gave me her robe. I wore a beanie. My cold adventure began!
I remember both places, cuddling in blankets, night cap on my head, and best of all, sleeping deeply.
And so, as one to embrace adventure, we will see how long I last in my could-be-warm house--when adventure isn't necessary, but comfort is.
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