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Dear Crappy College Thermostat

25 Feb

Dear Crappy College Thermostat,

Look, I don’t know what I did, okay? Are you mad because I neglected you for so long? I know it seems kind of unfair for me to just forget about you until my I get frostbite in my ass, and then crank you up to the highest level you can go, but that’s…that’s just kind of the relationship we have, you know? At least I thought so. I didn’t know you wanted anything more than that. I mean, it’s not like you’re practical for the long term. You’re just too much, Crappy College Thermostat. Ugly Flannel isn’t glamorous, but it’s reliable. It’s safe. I can count on Ugly Flannel to keep me warm at night without setting my hair on fire. Lately, I just can’t depend on you for that.

Is that it? Are you jealous of Ugly Flannel? Is that why you refuse to turn on for me? Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just…I can’t handle that type of heat all the time. When I’m freezing cold, it’s true, you’re the best. You do what you do and you do it fast and well, and then I don’t even want to think about tropical climates for another week. But for those little chills, the fifty-degree mediocrity of normal Oregon temperatures, I need something that can be there all the time without melting my face off.

What I’m getting to, Crappy College Thermostat, is the issue of last night.

Seriously. What was that? When I got into bed and curled into a frozen little ball, I thought, hey, I wonder what Crappy College Thermostat is up to, because Crappy College Thermostat always does me up right. So I reached over (how CONVENIENT that I can reach you from my bed) and switched you on. Please, baby, please, just a little heat to get me by until morning. Nothing happened. I called you something awful that starts with a ‘g’ and ends with an ‘oddamn piece of shit’, and I went to sleep.

Come 2:45 AM. I wake up, sweating, my hair plastered to my face and pillow, feeling all Hansel & Gretely oven-style all up under my blankets. My room, my entire room, felt like an armpit. A middle aged fat man’s armpit. On moving day. In Texas. In a state of heatstricken shock, I blinked in the dark and tried to figure out what was happening. Was it the apocalypse? Had a burning comet landed outside my window? Was I perhaps on fire? I considered throwing my blankets off, but between burning to death and being eaten by a grue in the dark (obviously blankets provide surperior protection to all night time monsters) I chose burning to death. I tried to go back to sleep. Couldn’t. Tried scooting off my blankets a bit more. Not enough. I twisted my head around again, staring to see if maybe a star had gone supernova in my laundry pile.

And then, Crappy College Thermostat, I spotted you. Cranked up to five. Smugly sitting on the wall, whispering, “Bitch, I’ll teach you to leave me off all winter.”

That kind of shit is exactly why we’re not talking anymore, Crappy College Thermostat. I just can’t deal with uncertainty like that. What’s next? Are you gonna melt my underpants? Freeze my sexy boots (please god not the sexy boots). Are you gonna call my ex-boyfriends and spread nasty rumors? What?

So have a good life. We’re not going to be talking anymore. No midnight calls for heat, nothing. Ugly Flannel is there for me no matter what, and this time, I’m siding with stability. Good luck suffocating an infant somewhere.

Love, Jessica

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Posted by on February 25, 2009 in Letters

 

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