OCR Text |
Show Just Stuff . Y by Jan The other morning I woke up and I could see my breath. When I pitty-patted across the bathroom floor my toes curled at the coldness of the tile and when I walked across campus to my class, It actually seemed warmer out in the winter air than it did in my comfy, cozy abode. Something was definitely wrong. The fiery furnace which roared in the depths of the basement had ceased to roar. It took a few days before we found a jim-trinket to gum-shoe the broken broiler back to working condition, but we did survive. Can you imagine a house of 27 college coeds without a working furnace? Interesting is the only words. The girls were decked out in all kinds of costumes from leg warmers and sweats to long Johns and bathrobes. We donned anything and everything that displayed even a hint of warmth. Blankets, sweatshirts, gloves and hats, all become negotiable items. We all become quite adept at answering and dialing the phone, writing reports and typing papers, using silverware and performing numerous other menial tasks with gloved hands. Our dinner attire considered mostly of winter coats, blankets ala wrap, or a bad case of the shivers and snakes. The academicians removed themselves from the cold confines of the chilly study room and planted their posteriors, books, papers and all in front of the cheery fire. A hot bath is usually a great "warm me up" but it losses it's appeal with the thought of facing, stark naked and dripping wet, the blustery weather which prevails in the powder room. For those few days, hot chocolate, hot soup, hot cider, hot anything took the place of a cold can of pop or ice cream. O course we're all martyrs. Very few of us traveled the 5 minute walk to the warm waiting walls of the campus library, rather, we weathered the bitter elements. As I put the final touches on this column, with gloved fingers and a scarf around my neck, from the depths of the basement I hear a slight hum. The radiator in my room ticks and knocks, and from the frosty, Tireless furnace a breath of heat is sent into our walk-in-freezer of a home. By next week we'll be complaining of the heat! |