The Butt Warmer

Winter is coming. Man, I hate being cold.

Let me say that again for emphasis: I hate being cold!

Call me crazy -- heck, you can call me Al as long as I can call you Betty -- but I don't buy into the philosophy that cold weather is superior to warm weather because "you can always put on more layers of clothing if you're cold." First off, you're going to hit critical mass at some point, after which you will not be able to move your joints, just like the poor kid in the snowsuit in A Christmas Story. Second, the moment you step into a building, you have to peel a bunch of those layers off, only to put them on again shortly thereafter when you leave. This is far too much work for me. In fact, the mere thought of putting on a winter coat right now is exhausting.

I personally find being cold to be a painful experience, so I try to avoid it at all costs. So, you can imagine my sense of dread when I first learned that the building we live in was built in the 1890's. In other words, this place is drafty. Really drafty. And Amy's going to be cold. Really cold. And when Amy's cold, she's not happy.

And when Amy ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

Already, I am struggling with the cool evenings. The first night that we decided to turn the heat on, we got it way too high. Normal people wouldn't have a problem with this: they would simply sleep without the covers, or get up and turn the heater down. I am not a normal person. Despite every rational bone in my body, I am still convinced that the monsters in the closet can't get me as long as I'm under the covers, so I can't possibly throw the covers off and sleep without them. As for getting out of bed to turn off the heat - are you kidding? Me, voluntarily get out of bed when it's dark outside? I guess you could say that I got the health benefits of a sauna right in my own home that night.

Of course, the worst place to be cold is the bathroom. In true French style, our bathroom is actually two rooms: we have a toilet on one side of the apartment, and a shower and sink on the other side. Fortunately, the toilet seat hasn't quite iced over yet, so I'm doing OK on that end. (No pun intended.) Coming out of the shower, however, is another matter.

Enter the butt warmer.

This is my new nickname for the heater in our shower room. This little slice of heaven, pictured at left, isn't much to look at. You can see my toothbrush on top for scale -- the butt warmer is wedged in quite tightly between the sink and the door jamb. But wow, does this sucker pack a punch! Just flip the switch from "stop" to "marche" and voila! Heat magically comes pouring out of those wonderful little vents. And, as the nickname suggests, it's right at butt height for me. My touchie stays quite toasty while I race to get myself dried off and change into my pajamas.

So, in the style of the Bud Light "Real Men of Genius" beer commercials ...

[Real Men of Genius]
Today we salute you, Mr. Tiny Bathroom Heater Maker
[Mr. Tiny Bathroom Heater Maker]
Only you could know just how cold my posterior would get in a 19th century building
[Don't make 'em like they used to]
You dared to make a powerful, yet efficient machine that can heat a shower room in under 10 seconds
[A room of only 1 square meter]
Without you, we couldn't shower without penalty during those cold, winter months
[Gonna shower all night long now]
So stand and be recognized, Mr. Tiny Bathroom Heater Maker
[Mr. Tiny Bathroom Heater Maker]
Amy 7252, Paris, France