My Room & CO

The other night (by other night I mean about two months ago and I'm just now posting this underwhelming story) my radiator was making enough noise to keep me up for the majority of the night. As I laid in my bed hoping the incessant clanking noises would miraculously end, my sleep-deprived rage turned into sleep-deprived paranoia that my room was slowly filling with carbon monoxide and I would die in the 20 minutes of sleep I might get that night.

Fortunately I did not die as God must have had a higher calling for me, a higher calling that I tried to fulfill by wasting away the following day at work reading Gothamist. As I sifted through an unhealthy amount of local aggregated news, I read the account of a carbon monoxide detector saving a Brooklyn resident's life. That was the final sign that I needed a carbon monoxide detector more than I needed to save my money to buy another pair of Arizona Wildcats mesh shorts.

During my lunch break that day, I walked over to K-Mart to purchase the life-saving device. I saw one for $54, which I figured my life was not worth, but settled on a nice one that only set me back $24. I then recanted my terribly boring lunch break to my friends via e-mail to let them now about my new air-monitoring toy.

My friend Gould brought up the great point on how it's not often in life we can determine a monetary value for our lives, but agreed that $24, "Feels about right."

Sep chastised me for wasting $24 on what could have bought me three whole 2 Bros pizzas.

I was just that I could potentially sleep without the fear of dying from carbon monoxide poisoning, which was a good way to live life until my radiator leaked for a week while I was gone causing severe water damage to my wood floor. Now I sleep with the healthy paranoia that I'm inhaling mold spores which will eventually cause me a slow and painful death.