Heating things up

So tomorrow is the day that my boys will be flying up to the cold, arctic heart of Maryland. I must say that I feel badly, yanking them out of their 70 degree bliss down in the decrepit desert that is Del Rio, Texas to bring them up to a place where just standing outside for a few minutes will freeze your noobies off.

I reminded and reminded Mr. Hot Pilot to pack their heavy jackets, but for some reason I get the feeling that we will be making an emergency pit stop at the local Old Navy to outfit Munchkin in something heavier than "spring weight" cotton.

Oh and did I mention that Mr. Hot Pilot (and Munchkin too) is Puerto Rican (and a super hot one at that!) and hails from Tampa? And that he will turn the heat on IN THE SUMMERTIME if he deems it necessary? Yeah, he is going to die at my house.

I currently live with my parents (because I am a) too cheap too lonely to live alone; b) cheap loving my address; c) a raging freeloader not down with the economy and d) waiting patiently for a ring on my left hand not moving out until I marry Mr. Hot Pilot) who like to keep the temperature at a chilly 68 degrees.

Mr. Hot Pilot will attempt to physically harm me (and by harm I mean TURN THE HEAT ON IN THE SUMMER) if I dare accidentally, possibly, maybe fall into the thermostat on his wall and potentially hit a button that might or might not have lowered the temperature to 74 degrees. Yeah, its kind of like that. So needless to say, I had better drag up some blankets, quilts and an extra space heater for my boys, lest I find icicles hanging from their nose hairs in the morning.

I am, afterall, a fabulous hostess!