Out of Order

Due to the hurricane-like storm system that passed over our area on Friday, over half a million people in the great state of WV are now without power.  I am one of the half-million, and I am fairly certain I am producing enough body heat for all the rest of them.

We have a generator, but have to conserve energy, so I will not be doing any lengthy posts.  My updates are done by phone, and that is far too tedious for an actual post.

Assuming I don’t murder everyone in my home and end up in a mental facility, hopefully I will be back with you around the end of the week.  If you are also without power, you are in my prayers, and all joking aside, I’m glad everyone is okay and I’m sure this will make me appreciate the luxury we all enjoy every day.

I’ll just keep telling myself that.

 

Hyster-wreck-tomy

     O-M-G it’s H-O-T!!

     Ian and I like to watch those weird paranormal shows, and one that vividly stands out in my mind one that discussed the validity of spontaneous human combustion.  I can remember the image of a burned up bed with a charred skeleton lying on it, while the rest of the room/house remained relatively unscathed.  In retrospect, while the show didn’t reveal the gender of the charred skeleton, I feel certain it had to be a woman.  And I’d be willing to bet that she’d had a hysterectomy a few months prior to the highly charged event.

     Mine was back in September.  For a few months, I felt pretty good about the fact that I wasn’t suffering from hot flashes or mood swings like you hear about.  I had just about decided it was a bunch of stereotyping and hype, probably perpetuated by men, and that I was going to do fine.

     That was before.  This is now.

     There are literally times when I look down at myself to make sure articles of my clothing aren’t smouldering.  Every time I smell smoke, I jump around and check my ass real quick to make sure it isn’t on fire.  Now that Satan has left his front door open and it’s approximately 200 degrees every day, I quite literally sweat all day long.  For those of you who don’t know about my mild OCD, I hate to sweat. I hate it.  I have dark hair, and sweat just makes it all oily and yucky and my skin feels all nasty……just barf, you know?  And now I’m in a state of perpetual sweat.

     I have  a nice garden that I am quite proud of, but I can’t bear to go out during the daylight hours to work on it.  So here I am at nine at night, pulling weeds and keeping company with the lightning bugs.  It’s kind of like “Twilight,” only the heroine is WAY uglier, there’s no sexual tension, and there’s a LOT more swearing.

     I just can’t bear the sun.  I don’t even like walking past the windows in the house.  I look at my son’s school work sitting at the dining room table one foot in front of the air conditioner.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I just randomly wake up, and I HAVE TO GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW AND GO STAND IN FRONT OF THE FAN!!!!!

     Whew! Sorry about that.

     I’ve never been much for heat, but it was nothing like this.  I don’t think the words “hot flash” really do it justice.  The word flash implies a very temporary thing, and so far this seems to transcend temporary. It’s more like my thermoregulators have gone completely out, sort of like when the thermostat goes out in your car and it starts overheating, only sweatier (and with more swearing, of course.) 

     As far as the other stuff, I’m not so sure.  I don’t think I have mood swings, unless you count the occasional urge to strangle members of my immediate family with my bare hands.  Or the desire to run over people with my van in Wal-Mark parking lot.  Or the sudden increase of my personal space to approximately twelve feet in every direction.  Or my new habit of yelling at the television and sometimes, in the mornings, the newspaper.  Other than that, I think I’m fine.

     I don’t know if everyone goes through this. I take estrogen, in the form of the estrogen patch, religiously.  I have a friend who had a hysterectomy, and she doesn’t take estrogen.  Honestly, I don’t know why her house hasn’t burned down (or why she hasn’t burned it down.)  My mom had one in February.  She takes estrogen.  Her fuse is a little short, anyway, so it’s hard to tell the difference so far.  (Sorry, Mom. I only speak the truth, and only because the old proverbial nut doesn’t fall far from the tree.) 

     So anyway, I guess only time will tell.  Maybe I will adjust as the summer goes on.  Or maybe I will burst into flame one night in my bed, and end up on Sci-Fi. Either way I have to go.  I smell smoke.

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