Romanea is dead. And cold.
I’m trying to concentrate on the TV news saying that three Rolls Royces were sold at the International Car Fair in Bucharest, but I can’t because it’s freaking cold in the apartment. The rule is (Ceausescu invented it, with the help of his counselors) that we don’t get hot water in the thermal system unless three days in a row there are under 10 degrees Celsius. We had this situation two days in a row, but I guess today the counter was reset. I’m afraid to go to bed at night. What if I don’t get up anymore, like Oetzi?