Bless You, It Wasn't Me

My mom doesn't like to run the heater in her house. There are post-it notes on both thermostats that decree like two tiny yellow tyrants to "leave on this setting". Mom has sensitive sinuses. The heater smells like burnt dust and the dry heater air makes her sinuses itchy. Seriously, she'll sneeze four times in a row at the slightest inhalation of allergen or irritant. My mom's sneezes are scream-sneezes with loud, high-pitched vocalizations. If you're not accustomed to the sound, you might think someone is doing her harm. It's best for all parties to leave the thermostats alone, despite the chilly temperatures here. Wrap another blanket around yourself and have a mug of hot tea.

Mimi (my mom's mom) and Papa Roy (Mimi's husband) are here visiting too. Today, SOMEONE turned both thermostats up to 70 degrees while Mom was out running an errand. I bet that heater felt good, but I was at my sister's house when the thermostat-bandit struck, so I was unable to bask in its warmth. I did, however, receive an accusatory phone call from my mom while I was over at my sister's house. She wanted to know (ACHOO!!!) if I turned up the heat in her house. "Bless you, but I didn't touch it," I insisted.

I don't mean to point any fingers, but Mimi was the only known person in Mom's house when the thermostat-bandit struck, unless someone broke in and decided to warm the place up a bit before making off with the valuables. Mimi says with a pretty convincing poker-face that she didn't touch the thermostat. It's a mystery...