The Inferno

19 Dec

Boiling lava. The surface of the sun. The inside of a Hot Pocket.

What do these three things have in common, you may ask. Well, they are exactly the same temperature as my apartment right now. For the past week, I have boiled in the inferno that is my studio, my radiator churning out the heat with the fervor of the burning depths of hell. It is so uncomfortable, I’ve barely slept in three days. I take ice-cold showers before bed, sleep on top of the covers, and last night, started treating my heat stroke with ice packs strategically placed on my pressure points, a technique I learned as a lifeguard at a water park. When I worked there in the SUMMER.

It’s not like I haven’t been trying to cool the place down. Every window in my apartment is wide open, and I’ve called the landlord four times so far to get someone to come and fix it. The first time I called, he asked if I had tried to turn it off by twisting the valve. O, that would be a grand idea, if there was one! The only thing attached to the radiator is a pipe with a metal spigot, which is approximately 500 degrees. I know this because I touched it, and watched my hand immediately burst into flames.

Since last week, I’ve been getting empty promises from my landlord that someone would fix the valve, but each night, I return home to an apartment that is giving me a sunburn. O well, in a few days I’ll be back in New Jersey for the holidays, in the other extreme–my mom keeps the house so cold I can see my breath before I go to bed.  Whatever happened to room temperature?!?!

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