Bbrrrrrrrr....where's the cotton flannel?

Fresh from the manicure!

     Like two little gophers scampering into their burrows, I shove my hands between the feather pillows encased in cotton flannel.  I have just returned to my flannel sheets, duvet and wool blanket from my nocturnal trip to the toilet.  This trip is made on automatic pilot, and I might still be closer to sleep than wakefulness if it weren’t for the cold water that has chilled my fingers to the bone.  Now all I want is to get them warm again.
     It’s bad enough that I’ve had to depart the snuggling warmth of my bed to attend to the needs of bodily functions.  But sleep and dreams won’t be found until my hands are warm again.   

     To save increasing the gas bill (which fuels the boiler) and conserve water, we don’t turn on the hot water tap just for a 30 second hand washing and rinse.  Yet, I can’t help but wonder where the water company pipes the water from—Scandinavian glacier melt?  Feeling the water on my hands and pouring through my fingers makes even my toes feel cold!  
        Since we practice budget saving practices, I no longer afford the sanitising gel I used to buy for the mid-night trips.  But how nice it would be to buy a gallon of the stuff!  Just think—no clinking of crushed ice as it charges out of the tap with the water!  Simply give two quick pumps which provide lovely, sanitizing gel that needs no drying on the still-damp towel.  
        My Midnight Man—aka Husband—often stays up late studying numbers and such.  Occasionally he will turn off his computer and rendezvous with me on my return to bed.  He seems to delight in putting his cold hands on my bare back and hearing my protesting squeal—not good when I simply want to return to Slumberland.  When I try to return the favour, placing my fingers, tingling with cold, on his warm tummy, he almost purrs, seemingly relishing the coolness against his warm skin.  UGH!  How unfair!  Even so, I won’t complain about his lovely, warm-as-toast skin that quickly dispels the coldness from my hands.   

      The amazing thing about the human body is that it is created to respond to stimuli of all kinds.  So, although my hands hate the shocking cold water I expose them to, the nerves send a message to the brain registering temperature change.  The brain automatically tells the blood vessels to open wider and increase blood flow—which brings with it warmth.  It never takes long for the fingers to register the delight of increased temperature s and I relax in the softness of the flannel and drift off to the entertaining world of my dreams. 

Serving Jesus, Author of our Faith