My toes instantly curl tightly, as the sound above me from my bedroom heater begins to blare– like the engines of a jet starting before take off. The noise from this square nightmare plastered on my ceiling, is the instant reminder that the “battle of climate control” between my roommate and I has begun -a gruesomely long and sweaty night of tossing and turning, in and out of my “too warm to stay under, and too cold to stay out of ” duvet. First off, I should explain some of my bedtime frustrations. I’ve never been the type of human who tranquilly reads the last chapter of their book before peacefully drifting off into dreams of rainbows and cotton candy. Also, do so-called normal human beings actually wear those cute matching pajamas out of the movies? Because unlike Zooey Dechanel from New Girl I am the lunatic who throws on NOTHING because I might as well have signed a lease to live in the fucking Death Valley desert. As sweat drips profusely down my face and into my pores I can feel my candidacy for pro-active's new poster child dwindling. I guess I needed a new backup plan for that singing career of mine. Precious minutes turn into hours, and I begin to panic as my beloved 8 hours of beauty sleep diminish to 5. I fear my morning wakeup, haunted by dark circles under my eyes and Sunny-D colored pee from over-consumption of Starbucks Americanos the next day. This must be stopped. I build up the courage to start my mission. Tip-toeing through my apartment like parents placing Santa’s presents under the tree … I bravely enter the darkness of no-mans-land. After quickly turning down the thermostat, I bolt back to my sauna faster than a little punk kid playing nicky-nicky nine-doors. I did it. I successfully avoided human contact. Finally I curl up under my covers, and doze off for the 4 sacred hours of sleep I have left. Now I know what you’re thinking “oh poor girl, complaining about her perfectly working heater”. And Karma might throw me back in time on the sinking Titanic with shivering Jack and the icebergs, but I can’t take off any more layers than naked. SO LAYER UP ROOMIE, BUY SOME MORE BLANKETS OR A FRIGGIN’ SPACE HEATER, Because I’m not dealing with this shit any longer. Simple solution. Alright. I’m gonna go tell her that now…. or maybe tomorrow..
