When I moved into my friend’s house, I didn’t have any room to complain.
I was so grateful that they gave me a room to sleep in, and a roof to go over my head.
Everything besides that was inconsequential. I didn’t mind that there was nowhere to put my things, and I wasn’t harshly annoyed about the lack of living room space. I was a grateful guest, who kept my nose down and didn’t say a word. As time has gone on, I have not said anything, but I have noticed a few things that bother me. For starters, I consistently wondered why my living room felt so hot and stuffy all evening. It felt like there was something wrong with the ventilation system, because my room, in particular, was consistently much warmer and more stagnant than the other spaces. I had the vent unjammed and opened all the way, so I couldn’t understand what the issue was with my indoor air quality. Most of the time, I wound up operating numerous box fans in an attempt to create some airflow in my room. I simply couldn’t sleep at evening if I didn’t bolster the cooling power somehow. I kept purchasing more fans and adding them to the hot and hot living room. When my room was feeling more like a hurricane than a peaceful place to get some rest, I decided it was honestly time to investigate the air vent. I grabbed a screwdriver one afternoon and cooked the cover off the vent. When I reach my hand inside, I pulled it back in disgust. Suddenly, it was clear what was going on with my ventilation system. The air vent was completely jammed with insulation.