Two days until Christmas, and I feel less like celebrating than ever.  The heater in our apartment broke once again, so we walk around in layers of clothes, letting out visible breaths in the cold, cold air.  To be in the house is to be under blankets that do little to trap heat.  The landlady just doesn’t care that we are freezing, or that the heating switch sent a little electric shock into Cazzatore a couple of days ago.  Nor does she mind that the heater often overflows, spilling water onto the floor.  Perhaps she will care more soon, as she has informed us that beginning in January she wants only 4 people in the house, instead of the usual 5 because she wants a room for herself for those times that she comes into town.  This, to me, is outrageous.  She is limiting the ability to rent the other room out, thereby raising everyone else’s rent.  And then she wants to camp out occasionally.  It might not be so bad if she weren’t such a jerk about it.  Of course, maybe then she will do something about the heat, and maybe even the black mold growing in the bathroom.