Yes, it is true. Rogelio wears gloves.
He wears gloves in the house.
No, he is not a Michael Jackson fan. It is because of the cold. Yes, the cold IN the house.
A couple of years ago, Rogelio started developing a reaction to the cold. His hands and knees get red and itchy when he is exposed to extreme weather. Like say, 15 degrees. I’m talking Celsius.
So now he wears gloves and fleece long johns between November and April.
At least I put him on to the old forester’s trick of cutting the finger tips off so he can type or pick up a pen. Or skratch his itchy knees.
Can you believe, the only guy in Spain allergic to the cold, married a girl from small-town Canada. From the sticks. From the boonies. Or if you want another good Algeciras term, Del quinto coño de Canadá. (From the fifth vagina of Canada)
The first year I lived in Spain I constantly suffered the heat. That is when I knew he really loved me. He let me sleep with the window open all winter.
Since then we have both adjusted our internal thermostats and come to some temperature middle ground. I close the window, he wears gloves. I kick off the covers and he eagerly doubles up my share. I go swimming, he holds my towel.
And even without a stiff wind blowing through our apartment, I know he still loves me.
He lets me tease him on my blog.