OK, so maybe she failed to lessen my nightly, uh, night sweats (resulting from any of my meds, peri-menopause, or dengue fever for all I know). Her powers varied from gal to gal, I supposed. What she gave me was–men will read blah blah blah until the end of the sentence–hormonal balance. No small gift, that.

Take today: woke up drenched for the second time. I sighed at the inevitability of it. No “at home only” litany of profanity, though. Men, blah blah time approacheth. I forgot to grab more pads at the market yesterday so with the resourcefulness of a Brownie (think Girl Guide), I stripped off sticky jammies on my way to the loo, where I wrapped the crotch of my undies in toilet paper with the precision of a Royal bow maker.

More sighing ensued but I soldiered on into the kitchen and strangely warm A/C rising from the vent. I reversed to examine the thermostat (circa 1960). OK, so it read 80 instead of last night’s 74. That wasn’t right. The Brownie in me took over again. I opened the windows, filled the ice cube tray for kitty water bowl, fed kitties, downed my AM meds, emailed Maintenance, found another set of jammies to wear (yes, did the above in my undies; the A/C is broken, people), chucked the neck wrap in the freezer, and prepared my first cup of joe.

If not for the caffeine, who knows if I’d have remembered the old “fan blowing on bowl of ice packs” trick? Aha, see? Having done what I could, I settled into my new(ish) morning routine–no laptop (except to contact Maintenance) until I drank coffee, wrote in my journal, read, meditated (dozed a bit there, I admit), rebounded, did five Sun Salutations and AM yoga practice (and remembered to set up fan/ice pack cooling system).

All with the patience of the Buddha, thanks to two daily capsules of vegan Evening Primrose Oil. The only thing that’s relaxed me more was sex and well, we don’t need to go there again…yet.

Stay tuned for the first ridiculous decision I made as an urbanite.

Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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