My husband Mike is constantly chuckling about what a ball of anxious energy I am. He can’t half smirking every time I overthink things, or straight out laughing when I call him near tears, worked up one way or another on my way to the grocery store. Whenever a waiter asks if we’re ready to order, he shakes his head and says, “she’ll need another half hour, please.” He thinks it’s adorable that I inevitably overpack the car to prepare for every worst case scenario, even on day trips. But, after I rescued us from disaster during our last trip, he doesn’t tease quite so much. Mike and I were traveling though the mountains for an adventurous two year anniversary hiking trip. We’d overestimated the time it would take us to arrive at the site, so ended up having to pull over at a dumpy hotel when the roads got too dark to safely navigate. It wasn’t exactly wedding anniversary material, but we liked the adventure of staying overnight in the hardly standing old building–at least until we entered our dusty little room. It was freezing… And I mean, literally below 30 degrees. When we told the front desk clerk, she blinked at us boredly, explaining that the heating units all worked similarly in the hotel, and she didn’t have any other rooms or furnaces for us… She didn’t seem to notice my trembling or our clattering teeth, and didn’t even pretend to call an HVAC worker or the service department. When arguing with her didn’t work, Mike started to get slightly hysterical, trying to look up the dangers of hypothermia on his phone and making plans to sleep in the car with the heat on overnight. In the middle of his planning, I smiled and calmly walked out to the van, dug around, and emerged to present a small electric heater to my gaping husband. The heater was powerful enough to raise the temperature in our room near 55 degrees, and we easily slept through the night, hypothermia-free. Now whenever Mike teases me, he concedes that it was a good thing I was prepared for a total HVAC failure on our trip.