Brrrrrrrrr!

It is 64 degrees F in the house. It is 58 outside. I find myself in the odd position of needing to warm up a bit before going outside to work in the yard. It is May 25. I am running the furnace. Although I have fully rationalized this, I know that my stoic Norwegian grandmother would be disappointed in me. My chilly toes that are swathed in thick socks would be disappointed if I didn't crank up the thermostat. I have chosen warmth over stoicism. My Southern half has prevailed.