Not-So-Sweet Heat

What is it up with New York City radiators? I cannot stand their noise!

Sure, they’ve probably not been switched out or updated in decades. And they do work ten times harder than the average radiator (that’s why we NYCers keep our AC on in the wintertime).

Perhaps they’re so over tenants demanding heat from them. Well, not tenants - landlords. (Seriously, why don’t property owners realize how much MONEY they would save if they knocked down the temp a few degrees in all the buildings in all the city?)

Anyway, so unfortunately I stayed home sick from work last Friday - bronchitis. Wamp wamp!
In my Ventolin-Advair-Levaquin-hydrocodone-NyQuil semi-hallucinatory state, I truly thought the heater was alive and out to get me.

Like the one that Macaulay Culkin was so petrified of in Home Alone.

Unlike Macaulay, though, when I was a youngin’ I liked the heaters in our house. Only now, in my later years do I have a troublesome relationship with them.

I find myself very much annoyed with my radiator’s raving racket. Scared, even, of its clinking and clanking (well, kinda - it was the meds I tell you!)

I get positively peeved at its splishing and splashing and steaming and hissing and roaring and rattling and clattering. Ugh.
What happened to the lovely heaters of yesteryear?

I have such fond memories of our little farmhouse furnaces. Sweet heat, indeed!

I remember taking bowls of Neapolitan ice cream and hiding in the corner near the couch in our living room. I would sit atop the floor vents, waiting for the heat to kick on, slowly eating my sugary snack.

After a seeming eternity, the furnace would get down to business, sending up hot air through the rectangular vent - the time had come for ice cream soup.


Though I never much liked how the ice cream turned brown - so boring - I would stir and stir and watch it melt. Then I would drink down the melty, messy, soup with sheer delight.

But the sweetness of the heatness didn’t end there!



The day Airheads found their way into the Parry household - what a day. We were quite taken with those tart slabs-o-taffy. Thank the lord for Costco and their big bargain boxes!
We had a little grey space heater in our kitchen and one day my mom (who has quite a sweet tooth - methinks that’s where I get it from), laid the Airhead on top of the heater.
I’m sure you can all guess what happened - the tough-to-chew Airhead became soft as putty. Boy was it delish!

So you see, heat in NYC is not so sweet. I suppose I could put a bowl of ice cream on top of my radiator (I wouldn’t dare put an airhead on that dirty behemoth) - but I don’t want to turn the rattling radiator on for all its noise, noise, noise!

Sadness.
I guess there’s nothing I can do. It’s a fight I cannot win. I could not beat the heater in a battle of wits. It’s always going to be loud and obnoxious and scary and clinky and clanky and grouchy. So I suppose I’ll just pile on another blanket.

I miss the days of ice cream soup and soft, melty Airheads. Sigh.

Now all I have to look forward to is a delirious night’s sleep under one too many quilts.