So, my sophomore year of college, I lived in a dorm-style building with my best friend.
We definitely weren’t in love with the Alcatraz-styled living experience, but our 10×10 concrete square was worlds better than having to live at home, so we dealt with it.
And though that dorm saw many an emotional breakdown over grades, or boys, or internships, it served us well. For the most part. Emphasis on ‘most’ there. Because that room definitely had its…drawbacks. Even aside from the prison-cell-like cement walls, or the bolted-to-the-floor furniture that severely limited our interior design potential, there were some foundational issues. One of the days in fall semester, late October, my roommate and I had come home after a day of classes to find our room absolutely sweltering. It was so hot- it was like walking into a hot yoga class, thoroughly unprepared. When we eventually got to the thermostat, shedding extra layers along the way, it read out an illogical temperature of 72. There was no way that was the case; we immediately put a work order in to have the school HVAC technician come in the next day and try to service the heater; until then, though, we tried (and failed) to fix the heater ourselves. We tried the obvious solutions of turning the thermostat on and off. We tried looking up tutorials on various HVAC business websites, scouring the web for tutorials on heater repairs, or even an off-hand suggestion from an HVAC provider or heater technician for an idea we could try. We ended up sleeping with our windows open that night, as well as baking a tray of cookies to take to the HVAC technician that ended up fixing the issue.