I've turned down my thermostat from 66 degrees to 60 to 58 and now to 52 degrees.
However, the temperature in the apartment remains a vaguely hellish 82 degrees Fahrenheit.
In the morning, I awake parched, with my lips incredibly dry. The skin on my hands is weathered and not particularly becoming. If I was staying here more than ten more days, I might be tempted to purchase a humidifier.
I'm under the impression that the ladies downstairs in the doll shop keep their quarters at 102 and the warm air is rising up to me whether I like it or not.
Well, I don't.
Not one bit.
2 comments:
Too bad my old lady downstairs doesn't keep her apartment that hot. My kitchen floor is positively frigid as is the bathroom, unless I intervene with my portable electric heater.
apparently my comments are a waste of wyatt's time. so i am going to waste his time with this comment...waste, waste, waste. good luck finishing your papers while i annoy you in the library all night long.
by the way, if you open windows it cools down a house. just a thought.
kristen o (o for original kristen)
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