Sitting on my futon, I thought I smelled something burning, kind of like someone was holding a match to wax. After sniffing for several minutes (or was it two hours?), I realized that the heat has been turned on in my apartment.
My building is ancient, so we have the old school radiators. I cannot control whether my heat is on, just whether it's on low or full blast. There's also a giant pipe in my bathroom that I have to be careful not to back into -- last winter I fell into it after getting out of the shower, and burned my bum.
During the winter months, my apartment is kind of like being back in the dorms at Currier/Stanley: it will be the middle of December, and I'll be wearing tank tops and shorts with the windows wide open.
But I guess I shouldn't complain too much: I don't pay for heat, and my apartment is like a sauna at a day spa. People pay for this sort of heat, right?
1 comment:
So does that mean that your apartment branded you? After all, isn't that what branding is - burning the bum with hot metal...?
:)
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