My fingernails are actually BLUE since returning from the Artic tundra that is our kitchen and I'm realizing: nope, I didn't think to ask that question. Call me gullible, but when I see an elevator, I figure it probably works. When I see a lovely apartment, I figure, it's probably heated -- in all the rooms. First I thought, gosh the vents must be closed. Then I looked around and, guess what? No vents! And no Gaggenau-million-dollar-stove-that-stays-on all-the-time-and-heats-the-kitchens-in-European-country-homes either.
And I know that when I pose the question of heat to my landlord -- through an interpreter, of course -- that he will pfff the air of dismissal through his lips and remind me that nowhere in our rental agreement does it state that all rooms are heated.
And now it's time for me to run from my warm and cozy bedroom into my freezing cold bathroom for a frosty shower. I know, some of you are thinking, stop wining and enjoy your European plazas and fountains. And I will...just as soon as I can get up the nerve to get out from under this warm blanket.