Baby, it's cold outside.

The nighttime temperatures in Las Cruces are dropping below 40 degrees Fahrenheit. (For my far northern or far southern readers, that's cold to us.) Daytime temperatures are barely making it to 70 degrees any more. This weekend was the first time my furnace turned on.

At work, I have the thermostat in the bay (our building is a former small airplane hanger, so the main room is a cavernous space) set at 68 degrees. I figure it's enough to let the crew members feel warmer than outside when they come in for lunch, yet cool enough to save energy. For some reason, though, when I enter that room after our daily-start-of-the-morning meeting, to refill my mug at the water fountain, my teeth chatter. I check the thermostat and invariably discover that someone has turned it all the way down to 40 degrees. Worse yet, someone leaves the outside door wide open. WTF?

This is one of those times it would be nice to be a psychologist, so I could explain how my crew members think.