Thermocouples blow hot and cold

THERE is no escape from the Law of Mismatched Temperature Perception among Married Couples. In essence, all couples disagree on whether their surroundings are too hot, too cold or just right. Irreconcilable differences regarding ambient temperature are a near-prerequisite for marriage. No ideal matching of horoscopes or claims of perfect chemistry can gloss over the thermostat war.

This phenomenon intensifies during the changeover of seasons. At the faintest hint of winter, the better (or colder?) half digs out a light blanket, dons a sleeveless sweater, turns fans to their lowest speed and shuts windows to keep out imaginary draughts of air. Unfailingly, the lesser half makes uncharitable remarks about weak constitutions and propensity to catch viruses. The mirror image of this predictable script plays itself out when winter wanes and summer waxes.

In our house, the most serious battle of the sexes centres around controlling the bedroom AC remote. I am a 24°C fellow, while my wife’s preference is 28°C — and this trivial difference in degrees snowballs into exaggerated degrees of differences. No sooner do I set the temperature at 24°C than she stealthily increases it in imperceptible increments. I retaliate by returning it to the baseline as soon as I presume that she has fallen asleep — only to realise later that she has restored the sauna-like conditions and hidden the remote under her pillow.

Towards the end of last summer, I hatched a diabolical plan. What if I tinkered with the air-conditioner so that the display falsely showed 28°C even as it blasted air at 24°C? It would psychologically satisfy my wife, and peace would prevail. After a few discreet enquiries, I found a top-notch AC technician in the neighbourhood, to whom I explained my unusual requirement.

“It will be done,” he replied confidently.

“But how?” I asked.

“You would not know, but inside the AC, two wires of different metals — called a thermocouple — are joined together. When heated, they generate voltage which controls the thermostat,” he explained condescendingly, as if physics was my weakest subject (it was). “I’ll change the thermocouple” he declared.

“Okay,” I added guiltily, “but you must come when my wife is not at home.”

While jotting down my address, he asked, rather bewildered, “Why do you want to change the thermocouple again?”

“Eh?” I retorted, “I’ve never done it before”.

“No,” he replied emphatically. “There was a similar request from this address at the beginning of the summer. To make the display show 24°C when the actual temperature was 28°C. I think it was a lady…”