Of course they have weapons of mass destruction
And Nanny Rice is fluent in Russian
And if they have no flowers,
They'll shower us with their shoes.
When I first moved to New York, I was sent to board with the Ursuline nuns. The Ursulines are a cloistered order. In addition to vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, they take a vow of silence. What that means for a teaching order, is that there is to be no frivolous conversation. Even meals are taken in silence, except for the inspirational reading that one provides.
The boarders, of course, weren't expected to follow this routine entirely. We were permitted to converse on the playgrounds and in our rooms. But there was no talking in the halls between classes and meals were silent, except for requests to pass a dish. Actually, the only things anyone asked to be passed for seconds were bread and milk. The main dishes tended to be so awful that nobody wanted more than was needed to keep from going hungry.
The "mothers" who supervised each floor in the dormitory, having lots of prayers to recite at the end of the day, were naturally keen to see that once we were snug in our beds, we were there to stay. So, although I'll admit that the dead of winter isn't nearly as severe in New York as in New Hampshire or other more northern states, the practice of opening our windows wide to keep us from getting up and roaming around was effective. It was not unusual for us to wake to a layer of snow on the floor.
We were actually appreciative of the fact that when the "mother " came to wake us at 6:00 AM, she would shut the window before we were expected to dress for the early morning mass and assumed that such a service was not provided to her.
So, we were understandably surprised when the usually locked door to her room yielded to our inspection and we discovered not just an unmade bed but a fetid rush of air which suggested that the room hadn't been aired-out in quite some time.
Being somewhat vengeful teens, we of course confessed to our intrusion that night when the lights were already out and we couldn't see the "mother's" reaction. Indeed, I have no memory of what her reaction, if any, was. However, I clearly remember the sensation left by the discovery that things were not as we had assumed; that the frigid temperatures we were exposed to were not shared. It was the same sensation I felt upon learning that Nanny Rice is not, if fact, fluent in Russian.