Excerpt from mail sent in 2000:
Tuesday morning, my apartment was really cold. There was a thermostat on my wall, but I had never turned it on. After all, there were no heating vents in my room. There were some out in the hall. Should I turn on my thermostat just to heat up the hall?
But Tuesday morning, I turned on the thermostat. The little dial *clicked* at around 45 degrees F. I waited to hear the sound of air from the hall, but there was none. I wandered my apartment, listening for vent noises, feeling for warmth. There was none.
Then Piaw showed up and we went hiking on Mt Tam for a few hours.
When we got back, my apartment was really hot. The hallway wasn't. I looked around the apartment, trying to figure out how the heat was getting in. No vents that I could see. Feeling warmth, I tried touching the ceiling. There was a patch of ceiling, close to the thermostat, that was hot--not just warm, but hot.
I've been too scared to try the heat again since.