The many deaths of Emily

Which include the following: freezing to death, being gassed, or suffocation. All of this, within a span of 12 hours, have been actual possibilities (although the likelihood of each was significantly increased in my imagination from in real life.)

First was freezing. Visitors to my flat in the past two weeks can attest to the fact that I’m not kidding, it was like a tomb in here. We spent a great deal of time huddled in blankets. And since it is October in the Northern Hemisphere, it wasn’t looking up.

Today, I made it my mission to nag my contact teacher into doing something about my mausoleum, I mean flat. Success! She sent one of the school’s handymen over to turn on the heaters. Well, that’s great, one possible death eliminated, but now I’m left with two other options: being gassed by the damn heaters, which are in keeping with the general shady quality of all the appliances; or, according to Kati, I might suffocate, because the flames in the heater will use up all the oxygen in the room. So, she said, I should open my windows. But not all the time, because that counteracts the heating. But definitely sometimes. But just a little.

After consideration, I put aside my worry about the latter death, because in 22 years I have never heard of anyone suffocating in their apartments because some devious heater ate up all their oxygen. The former, however, still worries me. I’ve decided that the heater in my bedroom must be okay, because I took a nap in there and did, in fact, wake up again. On the other hand, the one in my living room, both the heater and the pipes leading to it, make weird noises. And there is a very strong smell of gas in the room, despite both Kati and the handyman’s assurances that everything was “rendben” (in order). I don’t know whether to whimper or scream.

If I die, Hajni, I expect you to avenge my death.