Heat or no heat, that is the question.

One of the things I've been getting used to now that I live in an old building in the city is life with radiator heat. Ever since the heat was turned on in mid-October, the radiators have been prime topic of conversation between my roommate and I. It seems that they work only on two settings--cold and out of control. The issues, however, stem not just from the temperature, but the noises they emit! I have lain awake many a night in my flannel pajamas, socks and ski hat on, underneath a pile of blankets, shivering to death while my bedroom radiator happily stays barely warm. Poor Colleen has lain awake even more as the clanking and clattering sounds like someone is throwing her bedroom radiator down a flight of stairs. Both of us have walked around our apartment wearing all of our winter clothes at once to combat the chill.

We've been complaining to the landlord since November that there must be a better way, that this is just really no way to live. His answer, until recently, was basically that we needed to suck it up. He mentioned a few options like covering all the windows with plastic to eliminate the draft from so many large windows. We finally were able to convince him to come LOOK at the bedroom radiators 1. to see about Colleen's clanking, and 2. to see about mine getting all the way hot. Last week he came while Colleen and I were out to inspect and improve the "tilt" (which actually meant shoving 4 stacked up pennies underneath on of the feet).

When we got home later that day, we opened the apartment door, and a literal heat wave struck us. Our apartment was actually a RAINFOREST. It was about 95 degrees, the windows were completely fogged over and dripping water, all the radiators were scalding, but the bathroom radiator was screaming like a tea-kettle and clanking horribly. As we approached it actually began to shake and spit boiling water onto the bathroom floor. We debated taking cover wondering if it would explode, but then reconsidered and called the landlord. He said lacsadaisically that he would stop by next time he was in the area. Plan B was to call Dad. Dad said to call the fire department (or to call the landlord back and threaten to do so..) We decided to try shutting the valve and after 15 minutes the hissing died away. The apartment, however, was still 95 degrees. I slept that night in a tank top on top of all my covers in a jungle.

So I will be careful from now on what I wish for, but knowing that we are only at December 29th, I have a feeling that our adventures with the radiators are far from over...