As poor people, experiencing different seasons in apartment living is a lot like childbirth. It's like we have a hormone that helps us forget how miserable we once were. During winter in my old apartment, I forgot about the pools of sweat and sleeping under damp towels of summer once I was cozy warm due to all the heat I wanted at no additional cost. Yesterday I was shivering and typing with numb fingers as my resilient will to not use the heat crumbled and I turned the thermostat to 63 degrees. It reminded me of the last house I lived in before I got married. It was old, and I had a private room in the back with wood floors and 6 windows. SIX windows that had one job--creating uninsulated avenues of cold. As winter approached along with a roommate's unflagging will to keep the house at 55, I began changing my sleeping habits. My attire started with a base of normal sleep wear, a t-shirt and shorts. Then I added socks. And a hooded sweatshirt. And a fleece adult onesie. Then I took the fetal position under my jersey sheets with a Norwegian comforter and three additional blankets, and created a breathing hole, tying the drawstrings tight on my hood. Coincidentally my roommate next door had a room that was in a constant sauna-like state. She melted at night while I hunkered down in my own Everest base camp.
Marriage forced me to sell my contract early. In December, I would crank up the heat for prospective buyers. I walked barefoot through the apartment. "Look here, we have a dishwasher! Oh, and here is the room. The desk is included, it has wood floors (so hot right now) and a vintage dresser, lots of closet space. And the most amazing part... it has SIX windows. So great. I love this room."
A few weeks and a $200 signing bonus later, I sold my contract. Little did she know I had sentenced her to 4 months in her own private icebox hell. I should have felt bad, but I didn't. I had $1200 on the line and my new apartment to move into. And it was nice and warm, with utilities all included...
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I'm sorry the frosty chill went to my heart
Posted by Malorie at 8:53 AM
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4 comments:
I have to admit that I have resolved not to turn the heat on til October 1. I went visiting teaching on Wednesday, Connie had her heat on, it felt divine. I came home and kept my fleece jacket on and put on a pair of socks. The house was cool (67) but not as cool as yours! Our temps are back up to 81 this weekend! Yea!
I did the same thing right before we got married, when all of us lived in the Candy Shoppe. Oh, the days of sleeping in more clothes than I wear skiing...
i just have to correct the record...i have heard jon raise his voice once. he was naked in the shower. we stole his clothes and his towel. he went to his dorm room where we had locked him out. he stood at his door dripping wet, locked out, completely naked and i stood there giggling and aiming a soft pellet gun at his naked ______(insert body part here). jon raised his voice. and with great seriousness promised to kill me or kick my a-- or something. i was scared. i believed his threat and did not shoot.
that was the only time i ever heard jon hall raise his voice.
true story
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