In Which Chana's Nose Becomes An Icicle

Here I sit in my freezing cold apartment, wearing warm Mickey Mouse socks (thanks Dana!) and pajamas, clutching a cup of hot cocoa to myself while hearing the following song play in my head:

O' woe is me, o' woe is me

This would kill the canary

It's so freezing in my bed

That it's a wonder I'm not dead

I ask aloud for those of you who can explain the immutable, baffling ways of landlords: why does the heat not go on until October 15th?

My thoughts on this matter:

1. It saves on embalming costs, because this way when people die of cold, at least their bodies stay at the same temperature one would find in a morgue

2. It (all together now) builds character! (Ahahahaha. Josh, my dear, that was for you.)

3. It ensures that you huddle under the warming light in your bathroom the entire day, and the only thing to do in a bathroom is to become clean, so the landlords get to operate under the assumption that you will be reasonably clean when they encounter you. This makes them happy.

4. They've made a secret pact with Milk St Cafe or Coffee Bean because they know that packaged hot chocolate doesn't taste like real hot chocolate and if you're cold enough, you'll go outside to buy real hot chocolate

5. It's an effort to enforce modesty, because this way the only place you can change clothes is in the bathroom under the aforementioned warming light, and thus this will keep you honest. (And chaste. And good. And modest.)

Anyone else have any good reasons?