Day 45 Without Heating
I write these final words with a trembling hand and a frozen body. This is the end. I know it is. For one and a half months we have endured the bitter cold of Melbourne’s harshest winter. I thought we could outlast it, but my family took charge and wasted every single piece of wood or paper that could have given us warmth. Are they alright? I do not know, for we have been separated by a thick sheet of ice between the hallway for days now. It is so thick that I can no longer hear their voices.
My leg is caught in the ice around what was once my bed, and I can stare straight at the wall of ice dividing us. If my wife has made any attempt to break through, I do not know of it. I hope they are alright, fools though they may be.
It seems so long ago, now, that I had hope for a ducted gas heating system being installed. I would gladly have paid with my arms and legs just for the privilege of getting ducted gas heating repairs. In the Melbourne CBD, there is a heating business that has gone without my grateful custom. I bet it is warm in their office. I bet that they come into work and complain about how the heater is on too high, joking that they should turn the air conditioner on. They go to perform central heating repairs across Melbourne without any idea how desperately I need their services. All thanks to my wonderful, generous, thoughtful landlord. If these should be my last words, I wish for all to know that this is her fault, and I will never find it within my cold heart to forgive her.
I think this is it. I see a bright light ahead. Although it is not a white light, as I had expected. It is a warm, orange light, coming from the wall of ice. Is this really how I go?
– From the diary of a frozen tenant.