what the ... fleece?

My husband and I are very "Jack Spratt"; he's slim and I am almost a hundred pounds heavier than he is.  Which means, amongst other things, that I am always lots warmer than he is.  I am throwing off heat.  My body generates tons of it.  With all these solid layers of fat, I am encased in thermoheat wraps, the internal kind.  Now with summer just a twitch away, I break out in a clammy sweat just thinking of stepping outside.

So the other evening, I glance over at my freshly showered and clad~for~the~night husband stretched out in his recliner.  The air~conditioner is set on 74, I'm in my panties and v~necked T, hair up off my neck.  He's in his long sleeved T, the one with super~heros on it.  A thick pair of woolen socks are covering his feet.  And his sleep pants?  Fleece, festooned with teenage mutant ninja turtle faces.

I'm hot summer.  He's a snuggly winter night.

We're an odd couple, but we fit together hand in glove.  We both are comfortable, with ourselves and with each other.  Even if he is a 58 yr old going on twelve.