Home & The Cold Nose

Before you get too excited, I am not going to write about a puppy. The cold nose I speak of happens to be my own.

Our apartment is a piece of prime real estate in the basement of a large brick building, next to the washer and dryer complex. Upon walking in, I always get the immediate sensation that there are fish nearby- sort of like when you walk near a lake and can smell them- but no one else I have spoken to shares my intuition. There are two cramped hallways that lead to our room, baby’s room, and the living room; the kitchen and bathroom are squashed right into the opening walkway. I don’t complain about it much because let’s face it- when I walk through the door, I am rushing to either the fridge or the toilet. Ahhh, the majesty of pregnancy.

As far as a first apartment goes, my husband and I are quite lucky. The stove works and though the dishwasher sometimes behaves like a hormonal teenager (“I’m not washing this, it’s gross!”), it runs pretty well if you give it a kick and a second try (*note to future self*). There is no cell phone service in most of our apartment, which kind of makes it feel like that pit they throw Batman in in The Dark Knight Rises (only with fewer pushups going on). That being said, I have discovered that if you stand on the futon, put one leg on the window ledge, wave one arm frantically and pray silently, sometimes a call will go through. There is only one thing that drives me truly mad: the central air conditioning.

Really, he’s a great roommate.

Now before you get all angry at me for being pretentious, as many of you who have lived without air conditioning will, let me explain. Have you ever read or watched Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?The Basilisk (a giant serpent) that goes around stunning everyone? Yeah, that thing lives in our air conditioning. Every half hour or so he roars up, shaking the walls, making our apartment sound like a train station and effectively ruining whatever movie/peace/sleep we had going. It works well- a little too well, if you ask me. Keep him on for a day, and we can see our breath. Shut him off for 20 minutes, and the apartment starts to look and feel like a circle of Hell. My nose is chronically a temperature below zero no matter how hot or cold the apartment is. It’s futility at its sliest.

I am anxious to see how our son will respond to this beast agonizing our everyday lives, and to ask him if he smells fish too. His due date is in December, however; we could have far worse to deal with at that time. We haven’t tried the furnace yet…

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2 thoughts on “Home & The Cold Nose

  1. “Futility at its sliest.” What a perfectly crafted sentence! Please tell me your heater is adequately combating these frigid October temperatures.

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