Recipe for surviving a dreadful-heated day in Bucharest

Lay down on a heated bed.  Leave the bedroom window open to allow sunlight and a bit of breeze in. Then pick up Sylvia Plath, start reading and play next song on repeat:

[There are things

I regret
To can't forgive
You can't forget
There's a gift
That you sent
You sent it . . .
My way]