Plan B (that’s Plan Boiling Hotness, in case you were wondering) turned out to be a total failure. In fact, it backfired in spectacular fashion.
I knew from the initial meeting with the estate agent that this rental property had no gas charges; it all just gets paid for in bulk by the owners of the building. Perfect, I thought. And I shall never pay for heating again! So I just turned the oven on whenever I got back, it heated up my open plan kitchen/living area, and I felt like I was home free. Turns out they investigated the unusual amount of gas being used, traced it back to me, and now I have a gas bill to end all gas bills, so… yeah, not exactly the outcome I had in mind.
Honestly, they just need to get in some actual kitchen renovators. Melbourne has moved on from the days of open plan, I think; people want their space segmented, because that’s what we are as a society: segmented. So alone, very alone, woe, woe… but also, if we just got some walls up in here, I could set up my tiny television on the counter , drag in the beanbag and basically just live in the kitchen. See, I’d come home, cook my dinner, and the room itself (because of it being so small) will be heated up all nice and toasty for most of the evening. It heats the whole big room fairly well at the moment, so it’d do an amazing job with something to keep all the heat and delicious smells in. Heck, if there was enough room left afterwards I could practically sleep in there, maybe. Sort of.
This is what I’ll call Plan C (Plan Compact Kitchen Life). I just need to convince my landlord that this is a good idea, which shouldn’t be too hard here in the Melbourne area. Kitchen designer hired: check. Thick, insulating walls worked into the design: check.
I really don’t want to move onwards to Plan D, AKA ‘Plan Drape Myself in Many Fabrics to Keep out the Cold’.