My heater is giving off a funny smell in my apartment. It’s a wall-heater, only 400 years old, and I’d sort of like it to work, so that I don’t either asphixiate or freeze this winter.
I’ve contacted the management company, but, in the meantime, I thought I’d write to my Dad and see what he had to say about the matter. He’s pretty handy, and also works for an architecture firm. Anyway, he’s smart.
He wrote back:
Try to put the heat up for a day with the window open and bathroom fan going … There is a carbon monoxide detector on the way to your office address. Should be there by Friday AM.
Underpants from Mom; carbon monoxide detector from Dad. It occurs to me that not much has changed since college.