Goofing off

At lunch, people complain about cold. That’s what we do, because Paula and Kim are trying to enforce the no-shoptalk rule during lunch. So, the temperature in the office is a topic of choice; the conversation is literally inexhaustible. In an older building, it is always either too cold or too hot.

Our Facilities friends have recently revealed the mystery of the heating system in Horace Mann. The thermostats in each room will start the heater fan when the temperature drops below 69. Well, the temperature at my feet level is close to freezing, while the thermostat is five feet up on the wall, and it is smugly enjoying its own micro-climate up there. Besides, it looks like an old thing to me, and may not feel much of anything.

I take a can of air - you know the thing for creating the disgusting storms of the bread crumbs and beard hair from keyboards – and blow it into the thermostat. It cools down, and the heater kicks on, to the general delight. It is unsettling to have a machine in your own room that does what it wants when it wants it. A modicum of control over the beast feels great. So we go around the offices blowing cold air into the thermostats. Their tiny insect brains are confused, and we all find it hilarious. Don’t judge us, it has been a long and difficult semester.

And then Liz suggests a great improvement. If you simply put an ice-pack on your thermostat, it will think the ice age just began, and give out the last drop of heat. However, I can’t quite let go of the canned air. If you squeeze its straw mouth and release some air, your fingers vibrate, and make a fleshly sound; not like a fart, but more like rodent squealing. If it is annoying to Paula it is good enough for me. Moreover, you can learn to modulate the sound by squeezing the straw opening more or less tight. In theory, you could play a tune on it.

That is what we do here all day, in case you are wondering.