This Old House

At the moment I am sitting in the den with partially frozen fingers and toes, listening to the sound of my laundry, as it drips large, steady drops of water into a plastic blue bucket in the bathroom. While I have commented previously upon such details as the cozy size of my apartment and various, exotic night critters, the coming of the winter season compels me into yet another season of reflection upon my itty-bitty living space.

Thus far the winter has been relatively mild, however this weekend the weather took a turn into the frigidly cold. In Madrid, the most bitter aspect of winter is always the wind, which quickly turns a delightfully chilly day into a test of endurance. In building 9, therefore, we have made use of our portable Callifaction Unit. This little box on wheels provides surprisingly substantial warmth for the den in our apartment, with a few provisions.

1. Use of Callifaction Unit must never coincide with the consumption of toast or instant macaroni and cheese, or instant power failure will ensue. For like reasons, one must also never...never wash one's clothes in warmth. One may either have clean clothes or warm toes, but never the two.

2. It is recommended that when said unit is in use, that one close all doors, especially that connecting the kitchen to the den. Not only does it defend against the temptation to prepare the delicious, yet forbidden, snack of jam and toast, but it also guards against the conveniently placed window vent. For yet to be determined reasons, the already unsealed kitchen window has been deprived of a large square of glass and replaced with a fresh, cool vent allowing Jack Frost and all his friends to come and go as they please at any time of day. Therefore to help out natural laws of nature, do please close the kitchen door upon awaking the warming unit.

The only other mechanical oddity of which I know is responsible for drippy clothes in the bathroom this very moment. This washing machine, which has been deemed "The Never-Ending Story" by Ruben, is so called due to its rigorous washing process. While some loads take a typical 40 minutes, it has been known to wash a dirty batch of garments for up to 3 hours. On cold days it is not particularly inclined to spin water from soaking garments, and on randomly selected days it prefers to leave the soap and water inside as well.

But I suppose these are trifling concerns, as I have just taken up more classes which allow for little time at home. The new classes are business classes, and I now spend up to 7 hours in transit. While the heating may be accompanied by a smelly, drunk stranger, the Metro provides reliable warming service from 6 a.m. until 1:30 a.m., every day of the week.