I promised you some hate mail, and here it is.
Dear Freezing Tile Floor,
I have a bone to pick with you. Why? Why do you insist on being freezing all the time. Get with the program, floors! The rest of the house is warm (at least during the 2 hours a day we put on the heat), the air is warm, even the walls are warm! And yet you feel the need to keep your general temperature about a bazillion degrees below the ambient one. I've learned to live with you during the day (slippers, and thick socks - for when I get up to do something without putting my slippers on and don't want to die of a coronary from the shock of putting my feet on what feels like a slab of ice). But at night? How am I supposed to remember how cold you are when I'm half asleep? My only crime is needing to pee at 4 am, and you feel the need to torture me? Why? I try to outsmart you by wearing socks to bed, but you know they never stay on my feet (I also blame you for my slowly dwindling sock supply - I have a theory a lot of them are lost in my sheets somewhere), and so when I get up, I'm barefoot again. That little bedside rug I also thought would outsmart you? Yeah, well, all it does is delay the inevitable moment you freeze off my feet until I'm actually standing - which is a lot worse than if I were still sitting on my bed, tentatively putting my feet on the cold floor. Well I've had it with you. And you're lucky that the floors I'll be walking on in America in a couple of weeks are hardwood, otherwise I might be forced to "accidentally drop" something really heavy and putting a crack in you. So watch it.
Your Sworn Night Time Enemy,
Dear Dripping Kitchen Faucet,
It's like you and Tile Floor (and Broken Oven) are teaming up to make my short two-month stay in this apartment as inconvenient as possible. What is your deal? We have tried so hard to fix you (granted, without the help of a professional plumber it's a little difficult for us to know what were doing), yet you continue to torture us with that constant drip.....drip.....drip.....drip.....drip. And it's not even like you're dripping into a silent, noise-absorbing ceramic basin - you're dripping into aluminum! Which amplifies the sound to the point where even I can hear it, and I'm in the furthest room from the kitchen. It's a miracle my roommates in the rooms adjacent to yours haven't taken a hammer to you yet. We've tried over and over again to stop the dripping, and when we finally thought we'd found a solution, your handle went and broke on us, so the problem is even worse now! What kind of sadistic kitchen faucet are you? Well, the jokes on you, because this apartment is being sold and the new owners are totally going to rip you out and put in a new, silent faucet, that doesn't waste liters of water a day.
Your Verge-of-Insanity Housemate,
Dear Pyjama Pants,
I want to love you. I really do. I even wrote you a love letter the other day, remember? You are warm, soft, comfortable. You make cold nights livable. Your friend, Pyjama Top, is awesome. I just have one little itty bitty problem with you.Why must you ride up my legs all night? I know I go to sleep all curled up, but then I want to stretch out, and when I do, you're all like, "no deal, missy, I'm staying right up here, around your knees." Do you know how uncomfortable that is? I'm almost 25 years old and you've got me wishing I still wore footsie pyjamas - that's not right. It's like you and Tile Floor are plotting together to make me wear socks to bed, since tucking you into socks is the only way for me to get you to stop riding up my legs. It's also oh so cool looking and comfortable. Why don't you have a little chat with Pyjama Top and figure out how you could be awesome too: stop riding up my legs!
Trying Really Hard to Love you Too, But Finding it Difficult,