BU Facilities Must Be in Hot Water ’Cause They Keep Taking Mine

Article and Photo by Tara Mullaney

A slightly off beat Bad to the Bone ringtone wakes me from my slumber. I groan. I groan again, but louder. The people living next to me pound their fist against the wall, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” they scream.

I pound back, enunciating each word with a slam, “KILL. YOUR. SELF!”

This happens every morning. Don’t worry, freshies. South Campus is just like that.

I reach up to put my long, chestnut brown hair into a messy bun. As I fumble for a hair tie, my fingers freeze deep inside my luscious locks. Fuck. I forgot to shower last night. The feeling of my greasy hair makes my whole body shiver in disgust. Alright, let’s see how much time–

My cartoonishly large alarm clock stares back at me, taunting. I have fifteen minutes to get to my 8 AM lecture or my professor will hang me upside down by my ankles and shake the coins out of my pockets. *gulp* It’s fine. That’s fine. I can do this. I can shower this morning. 

An Irish woman always perseveres, potato famine or no.

I sprint out of my bedroom with my unwashed Sonic the Hedgehog towel in hand. Whatever! Desperate times call for desperate measures. I have no idea what that crust is DO NOT ASK ME. STOP ASKING ME.

I pitter patter down the hallway, well, okay, more like stomp. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Like the band your music teacher made you listen to during 3rd grade circle time? With the brooms and all that? Yeah, that one. I have to practice for my debut in their North American tour later this month, so I’ll take all the practice time I can get.

Rushing into the bathroom, I take approximately 3 seconds to look at my reflection. Yeah, I’d smash, I think, as I do, every day, and rip my pajamas off my body by their velcro seams. As they fall to the floor, I glance at my phone. I still have time!

I turn the shower handle to the reddest red to ever red ever. I want to burn myself alive. You’ll look between me and Rock Lobster by the B-52’s and won’t see a difference. Red 40? Bitch please. I’ll be Red 80 by the time I’m done with me.

The water spurts out of the spout like something I shouldn’t say online and onto my waiting hand. It’s cold at first, it always is. Just gotta wait for…

Huh. The hot water is taking longer than usual to cum out. Maybe I’ll just wait a few more seconds…?

…

Oh, for fucksake. AGAIN?!

I snatch my phone off of the sink and open GroupMe. Please tell me this is a fluke. 

REX PRESTON: Hi, everyone. Just checking in, does anyone have hot water right now?

ADALINE SMITH: where’d the hot water go? :(

RA: call facilities or smth idk

RA: 617-353-2105

Call me the two-nibomber for the way I’m about to blow this fucking building up. 

Alright, hang on. Deep breaths, Tara. You can’t just blow up a building with your mind. Find the root of the problem, and then blow it up. Priorities. 

I, literally, punch the phone number into my phone. It rings once, twice, three times.

“BU Facilities. How may I help you?” The woman’s voice is chipper. Like she’s innocent in all this.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“Where’s what?”

I snap, “The hot water?! The kind I pay for with Citizen Banks’ money?!”

She lets out a deep, sad sigh. I didn’t think a woman could make that sound. 

“We had to take it…” she says, sounding like a kicked puppy, “I’m sowwy. We’re just wike, weally, weally cold.”

I frown. Hard. The guilt crawls up my throat like bile. What kind of monster withholds hot water from another person? I sit my buck-naked, people pleasing ass down and listen to this woman’s cries. 

Apparently, instead of a raise or a working heater, Boston University gifted facilities a football field sized hot tub for them to enjoy, but they have no water! Golly me, what a sob story. I need to stand in the shower and think about my inherent privilege more often. 

In shock, I hang up on this woman.

I look back at the running shower, then to my phone. 8:23AM. I’m not going to that class. I lift my foot over the side of the tub and step inside. 

The cold water hits my body and I begin to shrivel. I stand there, frigid, shaking. I deserve this torment. How dare I ask for hot water? What am I? Some kind of animal? 

I breathe heavily. It’s just like the ice bucket challenge. It’s just like the ice bucket challenge. It’s just like the ice bucket challenge. 

After what feels like millenia, I think… I think I’m starting to get used to the cold. Wow, this is incredible. So refreshing! You know what…?!

Keep the heat, BU Facilities! The cold never bothered me anyway.