One degree of difference

Something was off when I walked into my living room this morning.
Not off in the sense that I would have to go find one of the baseball bats that live around my house so as to battle an unwanted intruder, or off in the sense that the stove was on fire or the TV was already missing – but still. Something was off. I could feel it. Literally.

Now. It’s always toasty warm in my house. Tropically warm, even. My body just withers and dies if the temperature drops below 20 degrees (Celsius obviously, cause we have normal measurements here), as does my mood. So I spend a good deal of extra cash on cranking up the heat up in dis joint. Gotta be able to hop around in skimpy outfits whenever I feel like it, no? Just kidding. I wear my penguin onesie with pride. #worthit.

Yet this morning the temperature box thingy on the wall told me it was only 19 degrees. 19!!!
I sometimes try to be sensible and turn down the dial when I go to bed, assuming the temperature (which is usually at 20) would stick around that number since there weren’t any open windows etc. Wrong. I stared at the thing in awe. And then remained in awe at myself for being so observant as to notice a one degree difference in temperature. Does that count as a superpower, ya think?

Anyway, my entire morning was totally ruined. Because that 1 crucial degree of much needed heat was missing. You can imagine the death glares I gave the radiators as they were heating back up, as if they can be blamed for heat evaporating. But still. They shoulda known I wanted it warmer. Stupid inanimate objects and their total unwillingness to think for themselves.

Of course I totally overcompensated. BAM. Up to 24 degrees you go mister temperature box. Bring. On. The. Heat. Which, of course, turned my house into a sauna-esque environment right quick. Which (however much I might like it myself) is not to be recommended when you’re expecting people over. So I waited for things to get to a toasty temperature and then turned it back down to 20 (Are you still excited to be reading this total uneventful story about heaters, kudos!).

Plopped down behind my laptop, started working like a regular home-bound IT-goddess, browsed some blogs and then…shivered. Because that 20 degrees…not warm enough after that cold as fuck start to the day! Back I went to the dialy thingy. Grudgingly tapped it up another degree. Perfection. Seriously.

22 was just a tad too warm. It begged a bit to loudly for removal of clothes (for me anyway). An inconvenient temperature. 21, however, is delightful. Warm, pleasant and openminded enough to accept al clothing options. Perfect.
You might think, like I did, that 1 friggin’ degree should not matter much. It’s just 1. 1 is not a lot. 1 is the least possible amount of a lot of things. It’s just 1. But this meagre, sad little number was the difference between me pretending like I was working in an igloo, unwilling to continue with my days work and temperatural perfection.

I never realized the mighty effect something so little as a 1 degree difference might have. On my mood, my work effectiveness and my quality of life. It only took 1 degree to throw me completely off my game, and only 1 to shift things back to pure delight. Only 1.
And that’s life for you, isn’t it. The butterfly effect, the spotlight effect, the iceberg effect (and I don’t just mean the global warming thing). All reminders of how something tiny can have a big effect. And how the smallest of corrections can have the biggest of impacts.

When I got up this morning everything was doom and gloom. And it only took one degree Celsius to make it right again. Which begs the question: why do we despair so much when our lives aren’t exactly where we want them to be. Yet. After all. We might only be one degree away from perfection.

Make the change. Start small. And things might work out a whole lot quicker than you might ever expect. (Am I in range of becoming a motivational speaker yet?! Tjakka! #justdoit (and some additional ‘make the change’ clichés))