When I was a teen, my mom and dad purchased a dual control electric blanket for their bed.  Dual control was the latest invention for men and women who shared a common bed, but not a common temperature.  It was designed to allow two people to adjust their side of the electric blanket to their personal ideal temperature and promised to be both a convenience and a marriage saver.

 

But somehow, in the midst of blanket installation, my mom and dad got their controls mixed up.  Dad ended up with the controller for Mom’s side of the blanket and Mom had Dad’s.  The first night of blanket use caused quite a stir.  Dad described the scene the next morning.

 

"I was a little too warm so I turned the temperature lower.  That made your mother  cold so, a little later, she inched up the control on her side.  That made me start sweating so I turned the thing way down, which apparently froze out your mom and she jacked it up to maximum.  It wasn’t until about 3am we finally figured out what was going on and got the wires straightened out."

 

That story makes a good point about the importance of "ideal temperature" in a marriage.  Columnist Mitch Albom advises engaged couples to find out what their fiancee’s ideal room temperature is before they get married.  "If you’re not within five degrees of one another, don’t get married," warns Albom.  I have to agree.  There are enough things to argue about in marriage without room temperature adding to the fracas. 

 

My wife and I are veterans of twenty five years of guerilla warfare over the house thermostat. Diane likes rooms cooler than I do.  Over the years, whenever I wasn’t keeping careful vigil, Diane would slide the thermostat down into Minnesota winter range. I admit, it did cut down on utility bills.  We didn’t need to store frozen food in the refrigerator;  it kept just fine on the kitchen counter.  Of course, whenever Diane left the house, I would crank the thermostat up into the Jamaican beach range.  Warm and toasty, that’s how I like my room temperature.  Back and forth we’d go until one of us gave up the fight--for awhile.  But any change in the weather instigated another thermostat battle.

 

In my twenty sixth year of marriage I finally figured out the solution:  I ceded control of the thermostat to Diane and she now sets the temperature in the house.  I simply adjust my clothing accordingly.  Sometimes I wear a parka around the house, sometimes a bathing suit.  My subtle clothing communication usually gets the point across and Diane makes a minor thermostat change to accommodate me.  My clothing adjustment has significantly reduced the number of fights over ambient temperature.

 

Which leads me to the conclusion that marriage requires many adjustments.  Sometimes one of you gives, sometimes both.  Loving negotiation and creative resolution of differences makes the temperature of your home just right.