I Hate My Radiator

First of all, welcome to my blog! I graduated from college in 2007 and am in the process of learning what it's like to be a grown-up, a triumph I highly recommend avoiding for as long as possible. I do not necessarily know all that I intend for this blog, but I hope it can at least provide a sort of "inside scoop" on my life as a young woman in New York City -- or better said, a little lady in the Big Apple.

Now on to more important things -- like how much I hate my radiator.

There comes a time each Fall in NYC when your landlord or superintendent deems the temperature cold enough to turn on the heat. On such day, you wake up circa 4:00AM to a very loud and disturbing noise. In your delirious state, you search your shoebox-size-of-a-room for the intruder you're certain has stolen your trusty tool bag (a gift you received from a concerned relative after you confessed you used a hot pink stiletto as a hammer), emptied its contents and gone to town with smacking every object in your vicinity in hopes of terrifying you before actually killing you.

If this is your first cold season in your city apartment, then it may take longer for you to realize that there is no actual intruder.

Good luck with that.

If this a repeated offense, it will soon dawn on you what is actually making that horrid noise.
Yep, it's that makeshift surface you've been using all summer as a strategic storage space.
Yep, it's that object under which you will never be able to keep clean no matter how hard you try.
Yep, it's located way too close to where you sleep.
Yep, it's your radiator.

In addition to the clanking and hissing radiator, you must also now avoid the few hot water pipes that run floor-to-ceiling in various nooks of your apartment. Normally, they are tucked away in places you don't usually go -- like that corner of the kitchen that has the weird smell you can never quite identify.

Or if you're like me, you may not be so lucky.

I recently moved into my own tiny apartment on the border of Chelsea and the West Village and although this is my third winter in NYC, it's my first in my new place. I really do love my apartment, but I do have to endure a bit of "quirkiness" in lieu of paying even more of a fortune for rent. One such quirk is the fact that I have a room with a purpose entirely dedicated to the toilet. Not surprisingly, I call this room "the toilet room". The bathroom, a completely separate room on the other side of the apartment, contains the shower and sink. The toilet room contains the toilet --- oh and four walls, one of which my legs are forced up against --- oh and suitably, a hot water pipe. Perhaps they (not really sure who they are, but someone had to do this to me) could have placed the hot water pipe behind the toilet or maybe they could have realized that the 2x3 foot room may not be the prime spot for a heat source. Undoubtedly they decided it would be more fun to think of us all roasting while using the loo. It's a surprise the landlord didn't advertise the layout as having a "toilet room and sauna all-in-one"! The hot water pipe runs inches from the built-in toilet paper dispenser, located directly next to where you already have to somehow position your legs. Not only do I now have to stumble up the two stairs and back in to the coffin-sized room every morning, I have to do so carefully so as not to burn myself on the scalding hot water pipe! You better not grab for the toilet paper too fast, ladies and gents, because that innocent-looking fixture WILL burn you. And with me being a "little lady", it's even more of a sight to see my 6'3" giant-of-a-boyfriend make such attempt.

So yes, I hate my clanking/banging/hissing/clicking radiator. And yes, I hate the not-so-conveniently placed hot water pipes. And if you're unfamiliar with anything other than central heating, you guessed it - I hate you too.

until next time,
-g