Aside from the shit of strangers that might show up on my bathroom floor from time to time, there’s only one thing I hate about my apartment. I can’t ever get the temperature just right.
My thermometer says it’s 8° outside and 63° inside right now. One would think that means it’s time to turn on the heat, but that’s really a bad idea. If I do turn it on, chances are everyone else in my building will get the same idea and we’ll eventually all be roasting in a 93° sauna. Plus, I get the added warmth of a Fancy Pants puppy whose body temperature is 101.4° as of yesterday evening’s visit to the vet.
But if I don’t turn it on, my two comforters and one hot dog are not enough to keep me warm all night long.
It’s a travesty really.