Warning: Children and men, cover your ears. If you don’t, you may go blind. (Or maybe you’ll learn something and have compassion for some other woman). Prissy butts, you too. Don’t go all gossipy on me later, saying that this was over the line. You were warned.
Damn. Seriously, Damn. It’s three-fifteen AM and I’m writing a blog post. If that strikes you as messed up, it is. When I woke up ? long ago, I figured it was probably close to five AM, and that seemed messed up… but at least within the realm of possibility. I tried following all those experts’ advice, and didn’t look at the clock… at first. But then I had to. I was awake. Three AM? What! Damn. This…well this is just… plain biological. File this under: messed up and TMI. It’s a hot flash.
For a few weeks now I’ve been feeling off. Last night at dinner, I suddenly felt as if I was blushing, my face on fire. Our kitchen felt 100 degrees and I was all clammy. I think I’m coming down with something. Do I feel feverish? I asked Smart Guy. He dutifully felt my forehead. What fool of a husband would not feel their wife’s forehead, when she leans in and insists? “No, you don’t feel feverish.” I feel clammy. Does my forehead seem clammy? He looked a bit paralyzed. What fool of a husband wouldn’t validate that statement, lest they be called insensitive for not agreeing with clammy. That said, who really wants to feel “clammy?” Poor guy; I’ll give him that. “Yes, you feel a little sweaty.” Trust me, it was not hot in our kitchen. From there, he just looked stumped.
So, as I lay here this morning… burning up… I was sure I had something. Sudden onset fevers, or bouts of clammy, hmmm? Restless and can’t sleep, hmmm? I lay here and rationalized for several minutes. The voice over would sound something like this, say in Diane Keaton’s voice, pretty much one run on sentence:
Man it’s so hot tonight, even with the window open. (actually, 64 degrees) This Tempurpedic (mattress) is ridiculous! It holds the heat. Sometimes I hate this mattress. Usually I love it though. Go back to sleep… Slow, deep breaths. But I’m hot. Night sweats, doesn’t cancer cause night sweats? It’s because I didn’t post my blog yesterday. I’m dropping the ball, because of this NaNoWriMo thing (National Novel Writing Month). I missed my blog, writing for NNWM (I didn’t actually abbreviate… when I was thinking). Should I post on Tuesday? No, I’ll let this go and not worry about it. I’m not that neurotic. I doubt anyone will really notice anyway. (For the record, not so- I’ll come back to that). I wonder what time it is? Probably five? Five-thirty? Just breath… try to sleep…. How could people not vote. Really? I mean, besides people who have REAL issues: like they live so remotely and have no transportation, or they can’t read and write… that would be so hard… but they can sign with an X and there are all kinds of people working for both Obama and Romney, and those other candidates, who want to drive them… I bet Gary Johnson doesn’t have people to drive them. No, everyone should vote. Yeah, but there are people out there who really have it hard, and voting is not on their list of worries. But, it probably should be. We live in a place where we can vote, how can you not do it? They should vote. I’d prefer they vote for my guy, but the right thing to say would be, just vote. My mother never voted in her life. I found that out when she was in hospice. It truly shocked me. I can’t imagine not voting. I remember going to my high school gym, my senior year and voting for the first time. I think my friend Valery came too. Wait, did Val come? I think she did. My guy lost, but man I was so proud of myself. I should write a post about the importance of voting. Maybe my humble post will actually encourage one person to go vote. Wait, it’s election day. Anyone who is still thinking they won’t vote, probably didn’t register either. They can’t vote. Whoa! They can’t vote! That sucks. I wonder if Romney and Obama have thought of that. I should be sleeping. Try to sleep. Count slowly. One. Two. Three. Four. I bet Obama is not getting any sleep at all. How could you sleep if you were wondering if all your work, well… worked? Maybe he sleeps for minutes at a time on that bus. Or Airforce One. Is it still Airforce One? I need to look that up. I can’t sleep, and it’s so f’ing hot in here, even without my comforter. Maybe I should just get up and do some writing. I have to be up in an hour or so anyway. Screw this, I want to know what time it is. Three! Is that a three? (I push the button that lights up my clock, three times). Shit! Its three in the morning and I’m wide awake. Burning up. This sounds familiar. Didn’t (blank) tell me she kept waking up like this? It went on and on and she got no sleep and was getting hot all the time. All sweaty… wait. Hot flashes, she was having hot flashes! Oh my God, I’m having hot flashes. No more babies. I don’t want a baby… Maybe it would be nice. No. It would not. I can’t believe it’s flipping three AM and I can’t sleep and I’m having a hot flash and by the end of the day the election will be over and I’ll stop getting all those emails (Read My Affair With Barack Obama, it’s pretty funny and took a lot effort to write. It deserves your attention) and Romney or Obama will be so bummed out… I just can’t believe they spent one billion dollars on this election a billion dollars could do so much and help so many people I should have people over to eat pizza and watch election results we did that in 2008 and it was so emotional and amazing to watch that election and I got Little Man up to watch it with us and we all told him he was seeing history and how could people not vote when it’s so important and I’m up with hot flashes but now it’s freezing in here hell it’s cold I can’t believe I have hot flashes news flash it’s a hot flash that’s a good title if only I could think of a title for my novel I could publish it why is it so easy to think of three blog titles per week but I can’t think of a title for my blog… I should get up and write that blog post.
Final notes: I did not think anything in parenthesis, at the time. When I got up and turned on my laptop, which I never have in bed, (but I watched a show on it before bed last night) I saw that my friend Liz had noted on Facebook that I was depriving her of something to read with coffee, by not posting my blog. This is dedicated to Liz. It’s her fault that I’m not sleeping right now and writing a blog at (now) 4 AM. I plan to Google hot flashes, post this blog, try to sleep a little more… or take a nap later… and follow the election results. Not necessarily in that order. If you are up too (hell, it’s 7:15 on the East coast), you can read this with your coffee. Then hit like… because I’m having a hot flash, I just figured it out, and took the time to write a blog about it. You owe me that much. Hell, these are hot flashes, I deserve a Freshly Pressed for blogging about it. If you found a bunch of typos, it’s four in the morning; get over it!