Saturday, October 22, 2005

Woe is me

I recommend you click here for some context, and then return and scroll down to read the rest of this entry.

Entry continued.

You know, it really would make sense for my landlord to want to make sure that the heat in this building is on and that the heater is capable of functioning, wouldn't it? To me, it follows logically that if I turn into a human popsicle and die, I can't keep on paying rent.

Out of sheer necessity, I am going to take a break from my precious study time, when I really should be reading for grad school, in order to bake something so I can justify having the oven turned on, by which I will ensure that when I am reading, my fingers are not so frozen that they cannot turn a page, and that I am not made a popsicle before the clock strikes midnight. (In case you're wondering, I have managed to type this because the oven is preheating and my computer is in close proximity to the oven.)

If you haven't heard from me by Tuesday, though, assume the worst.

*Supposedly, the heater on, and my landlord insists that things (what these "things" are, I'm not sure) are enabled so that when it gets cold enough for the furnace or whatever to activate itself, the heat will come on. Yeah, whatever. The Nanotribologist, inevitably, picked a good weekend to go out of town. Seriously, she misses over half the things things that go wrong in this apartment (here's an example that has nothing to do with the landlord). Normally, I get along fine with the landlord, but between this, the summers, the parking, the arachnids (may the cold kill them, please, and now) and the new downstairs neighbors... well. Do I fear the unknown too much to risk moving when the lease is up? No, I don't think I do.