By Jeanine Hage 

What you're about to read is not the plot of a horror thriller. It's my real-life saga with my so-called "smart" thermostat.

Yes, it's a smart device—we'll avoid naming names to spare any hurt feelings. It's sleek, modern, and packed with all sorts of nifty features. Plus, it has its trusty sidekick, an app, so it can be controlled from afar.

Overnight coup

So here I am during one of Canada's infamously cold winter nights, when my "smart" companion decided to run some mysterious nocturnal algorithm and adjust the temperature based on some overnight recommended schedule. Without consulting me—because it's smart and knows best, right?—it made its decision. 

Cue me waking up in the middle of the night, shivering. Checking the app, I saw the enforced schedule but opted not to decipher its cryptic logic at 2 AM. I reset it manually (like in the good old days) and went back to sleep. The next morning, I fiddled with it, deactivated the scheduling, and politely requested it to maintain my preferred temperature.

But why would it listen? It's smart, helpful, and apparently a critical member of the household decision-making team. 

So that night, I woke up freezing again. Seriously, what now? I checked the app to see what my dear friend had decided this time. It had graciously activated Eco mode, deeming it the energy-saving champion we all apparently needed. 

While its intentions might be noble, I’d appreciate it if it checked in with me before deciding that a midnight chill was the way to save the planet.

The intrusive roommate

So, there I was, in the wee hours, grappling with my smart thermostat's latest grand decision. 

I couldn't help but think that AI isn't just a helpful tool—it's an overzealous roommate, determined to micromanage every aspect of my life. 

From adjusting temperatures without warning to dictating my energy usage, it's clear that AI has taken its self-appointed role very, very seriously. Almost too seriously.

It's like having a roommate who insists on rearranging your furniture in the middle of the night because "Feng Shui is better for your energy flow," only this one comes with a side of algorithms and a penchant for unsolicited advice. 

So when my friend talked to me about a smart fridge, I couldn't help but picture it staging a coup in my kitchen, rearranging my groceries based on some mysterious algorithm for optimal freshness.  Between a thermostat that's already plotting against me and my pre-teen son who holds daily debates, I think I'll wait a few years before adding yet another opinionated character into my household sitcom.

Until my mischievous thermostat figures out how to play nice and consults its human cohabitator before orchestrating its own secret agenda, I'll keep the manual controls handy and enjoy the simplicity of pressing buttons that aren’t plotting a nighttime revolt.