Like Cooking?

As I mentioned in a previous post, the apartment is hot. I used to complain, when winter started, that this was not the case. We were getting snow on the ground and there was still no heat.
Those days are sorely missed.
Apparently our apartment building has two heat settings: OFF and KILL. The OFF setting is actually misnamed, because in that state heat is actually siphoned away from the apartment, so that one can be warm upon entering the apartment and within several minutes become a popsicle. When the heat is in the OFF setting, I turn on the stove just to stay alive.
The KILL setting is more aptly named. On that setting, the walls glow with radiant energy, waves of heat throbbing out of every inch of carpet, every millimetre of wall space, every appliance. Even the air itself is ignited, like a bad dream from the days of nuclear testing. D has been unable to sleep and has taken to fleeing to the couch so that our combined body heat does not cause the apartment to reach critical mass and cause a detonation that would level city blocks. Ostensibly, that's the reason, but we have been eating a lot of garlicky foods, lately. I may not currently make the best bedmate.
Rather than cooking, I hold a frying pan in mid air for approximately 2.2 seconds until whatever is on it has turned into a sizzling meal fit for a king.
One benefit is that every remaining fly in the apartment is now quite thoroughly dead. Of course, this does not bode well for the remaining living beings in the household.
I'm trying to convince D not to have a Christmas party, not because I don't want the company, or can't deal with the cleaning afterwards, but because of the fact that for days before the police arrived to remove the dessicated corpses of ourselves and our guests, the other people in the building would wonder who was having a barbecue.