Things to Do About Your Clanging Radiator (Paul's Room Battles #2)

Last year, I had a long and public battle with a group of ants who lived, partied, and raised their offspring in my room. That year, despite my best efforts, the ants lived in (mostly) undisturbed happiness and symbiosis with me. By the end of the year, when we sent the fridge back to the rental company and packed up our stuff, I was almost a little sad to see them go. As I looked around my room one last time, I caught the gaze of a few ants, who were looking around at the home which was to be exclusively theirs for three months. They looked sad, too. And as I walked away, I looked wistfully forward to meeting new room annoyances/friends the next year.

Enter the radiator of Perkins [Room # Redacted]. The only way to experience the sound is to imagine that there is a brigade of very tiny men with very tiny axes inside my radiator, mining at furious speed for precious stones. It's like if Mookie Betts was taking batting practice against the metal of my heater. Or like if (according to the dutiful, kind facilities man to whom I keep sending repair requests at 4 a.m.) the steam inside the heater was coming into very rapid contact with cold air and making a series of explosions.

It's the kind of noise that wakes you up at least once a night, and makes my roommate and I laugh aloud at our predicament. I've stopped using an alarm because I know that, every day, it's going to wake me up like an overenthusiastic dog. It's become part of the soundtrack of my life. Here's my journey to acceptance. Plus, if you read to the end, you get to hear the sound.

Stage 1: What's that sound now?

It has to be a joke. The guys upstairs must be pulling a joke on me. I bet this will go away.

Stage 2: Anger.

This is the stage during which you submit facilities requests with a start date of today at 4 a.m., when you're being rudely awoken by the clanging. You feel mildly bad when Frank from facilities shows up 3 hours later and is helpful but cannot extract the men from their little mine.

Stage 3: Acceptance.

Can't hear yourself think? It'll be over soon. Can't sleep? It'll be fine. Just wait.

Stage 4: Friendship

You start to know the radiator. Like when it will start clanging, or when it will be super hot in your room. It turns out the radiator has a bedtime, and sometimes is hoarse when it awakes. Sometimes it sleeps in, or has a wild night, or sounds lonely. Sometimes it goes away for the weekend. You sort of miss it when this happens?

Stage 5: Hold on guys, let's pause the conversation. The radiator has something to contribute.

True quotes.

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