Literally. (She's still hot in the figurative sense too, but I doubt I should discuss that much further on a blog that her dad reads.)
So for 6 years of marriage, Jen has throughout the year spent evenings curled up on the couch under a blanket complaining about how cold it is in our house. We have 3-4 blankets stored in the ottoman or over the back of each sofa. (Don't look at me like that--I'm not a cruel, cheap husband who wouldn't turn up the heat--it was a good 72 degrees in our house). After spending the evening on the couch under a blanket with her flannel pajamas and slippers, we'd go to bed, and her feet still felt like she had been slogging through Antarctica barefooted.
But not anymore... Since she got pregnant, her thermostat has been reset. The house stays so cold now that our cats have gone into hibernation (don't worry, they've got enough fat stored to make it through the next ice age), and I'm the one with slippers on the couch curled up under 3 blankets (and yes, I would survive the next ice age, too). Currently on the bed there is a sheet, a cotton blanket, a flannel quilt, and a comforter. I have a hard time turning over under all the weight--especially because it is all piled on my side of the bed. She doesn't even want the sheet on her now! Amazingly, she still expects me to get her feet warm (I guess it is unfair of me to expect her to warm them by the furnace of her belly like I do with my hands--she says she is feeling more flexible, just not that much.)
I hope this trend reverses itself before little Torquil arrives, or child services might be knocking on our door for housing him in a meat locker!