Notice I said "I."
So, you may be asking, what is it that's causing this undercurrent of household discord?
The thermostat. Or rather, the set temperature of said thermostat.
Here's the thing: I have not always been so, shall we say, rigid, concerning the thermostat. But, as oil prices rise to ridiculous heights, so has our electric bill. Therefore, I have combated the problem somewhat by keeping the air conditioning temperature set at a warm but still bearable - assuming you don't move more than necessary - 75 degrees. Three out of four of us have gotten used to it, more or less, and the two of us that are under five feet don't complain too terribly much - as long as a few popsicles are offered every once in a while.
When somebody (I will name no names, but he earns the income which I so carefully manage) comes home from his oh, so comfortably air-conditioned office, our house undergoes a Temperature Transformation.
After he's been home a while, I suddenly notice it's quite comfy in the house. At first, I think, Ahh, that's nice. Then I think, Wait a minute! Why is it nice in here?
Then, I mosey over to the thermostat. As suspected, my budget-conscious setting of 75 degrees has been pushed to a budget-breaking 70. I gaze at the offending dial, imagining my budget being smashed to pieces. Then, I resolutely push it back up to 75. Satisfied, I wander back to whatever I was doing.
Fast forward to late evening. I usually retire well before the Thermo-Tamperer - aka "The Bat" (a name given him due to his penchant for sending business emails in the wee hours). He says he's doing work during those wee hours, but I know better.
How, you ask?
Well, I don't sleep well of late, and unfortunately find myself awake at various points throughout the night. (Hmmm... does that make me "Mrs. Bat?") Anyway, so I'm awake at some wee hour of the night, and suddenly notice I feel refreshed. Not good. I march downstairs and take a gander at the thermostat. This time it's set at a big, fat 68. Aaaccckkk! I shove the little lever up to 75. Again. Then, I head back upstairs, flop into bed, and manage to catch some Z's.
Since The Bat gets up for work somewhere in the later but still wee hours, he does not seem to notice my reset, since it's still at 75 when I wake up a few hours after he's left for work.
But rest assured, come quittin' time, we'll start our little battle all over again...