On Frozen Pipes And Glacial Temperatures

Hello, everyone. I hope your day is going at least somewhat smoother than mine, as it has been consumed with a unique yet bothersome series of unfortunate events. Not only did I get roughly five hours of sleep (I like to tell people I require eight to maintain my level of physical appeal), but I wake up to find my apartment to be sixty-two degrees. At first I was sure that I must have accidentally switched the thermostat off, but much to my chagrin, I found that the technologically advanced heating unit that was provided with my apartment does not have the capabilities to compete with nature's cold accost. After my core temperature had thoroughly dropped, I decided to be productive with my off day, cleaning up the accumulation of mess that I, of course, had no part in making. After I had gathered up all the glasses and dishes which were dirty, I found out that my water was not working. After my first few moments of pure glee, I went to my landlord to discuss the matter of whether the water has been shut off due to a lack of payment (which would have been a mistake on their part), or if, coinciding with my luck, the pipes had frozen. I'm not sure which of the two options would have been better, but it turned out the pipes are frozen. Now, not only do I get to reside in an igloo, but I get to stink while doing it. I know how desirable my present situation is, and I implore you not to become too envious, but if you can't control your insatiable lust for my life, please, by all means, come to my apartment. I could use the body heat.