After 50 years of marriage, Clint and Penny had survived countless battles: burnt dinners, squeaky recliners, and neighbors with loud leaf blowers.
But their d*adliest war was fought in the hallway—over the thermostat.
At 7:00 p.m., Penny crept out in her bathrobe, teeth chattering. She turned the thermostat up.
Two minutes later, Clint appeared in his flannel pajamas, sneaking like a cat burglar. He twisted it back down.
“Are you trying to give me hypothermia?” Penny hissed.
Clint squinted. “Are you trying to bankrupt us with heating bills? I want to retire, not melt.”
For the next hour, the dial clicked back and forth like a game of marital ping-pong. Finally, Penny gave up and stormed into the living room with three blankets and a glare.
“Fine, Clint. But if I freeze, I’m haunting you. And I’ll set the thermostat to 85 every night for eternity.”
Clint chuckled… until the power bill arrived the next week. They both stared at the total, mouths wide open.
Penny crossed her arms. “Looks like you were sneaking it up too, mister.”
Clint muttered, “Maybe just once… or five times.”
And that night, they both agreed: true love means arguing about the thermostat while secretly doing the exact same thing.
