James: (fools with thermostat)
Me: “Are you turning up that thermostat?”
James: “Only to 76…it was at 74…”
Me: “74?! It should have been at 72!” (I’ve gotten old. I worry about the thermostat being too hot and the power bill thus being five dollar higher. My mother never did this, and I don’t think my father does this, so I assume I am taking after some deceased member of the family I never met.)
James: “72! I’ll freeze!”
Me: “Put on a long sleeved shirt!”
James: “Long sleeves?! But–but–I’ll be encumbered!”
*pause*
Me: “What…like if you have to get in melee or something?”
James: (seizing on this) “Yeah! If I get in combat, I’ll already have to take off my socks–if I’m messing with two shirts–I mean–I won’t have time!”
Me: “You’re worried…about…your…armor check penalty.”
James: “Yeah!”
The thermostat is now at 76. Because hey, who can top an argument like that?
