By now it’s become unclear: is she Temperature Maid or Temperature Queen?

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aving a maid used to be the highest item on my wish list. It’s not anymore. Well, not really. I still wish for a maid, but not for dinner, laundry, shopping — I’ve got that figured out by now. The only maid I still really, truly, desperately need is a… Temperature Maid.

My temperature maid will have to be a live-in, simply because the demands of temperature adjustments are round-the- clock.

See, while temperature duties might come naturally to some, the only temperature adjusting activity that comes naturally to me is diving under the blanket and staying there, all warm, for as many hours as it takes to finish my book.

I got off easy, I confess. My husband is temperature-oblivious (and he’s passed those genes to my children). Since we’ve been married, I’ve begged him to like hot drinks. I’ve dreamed of making a steaming glass of tea for him, just as the queen makes for the king in all those marriage courses. So far, I’ve gotten nowhere. I try not to laugh when he blows on his warm soup. I chase after him on cold winter mornings to remind him to take a coat. (A jacket? A scarf? Anything!)

But somehow, there’s still so much the Temperature Maid needs to do in this home. The temperature-related decisions are many. Should the kettle be left on the hotplate over Shabbos, or should money be invested in a 24-cup urn instead? Should we purchase warm Bob the Builder slippers, or will they make the child refuse to get dressed in the morning? Which thermal blackout curtains will be best at keeping the heat in the living room? Which is the right thermos? The perfect throw blanket?