(Or is that "little pictures?" Either way it doesn't make much sense, if you ask me.)
Sunday morning it's getting cold--inside. It's not supposed to get cold inside. Cold is for outside. I go to the thermostat; it's 64 with a minimum of 62. I've programmed it to stay at 68 from 7 AM to 11 PM five or six times and it keeps screwing it up.
I manually override it instead of trying to argue with the programming again. I'm a bit peeved. I find Rachel in our bedroom getting ready for church.
"Dear, our thermostat is smoking crack again."
Matthew is listening.
"'Ermsa' smote twack, Dada?"
Crap. I have visions of him telling his 3 yr old friends that his Dad smokes crack.
"I mis-spoke, Matthew. The thermostat is confused."
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