And then came yesterday. I won't whine too much about it since I realize that what's cold here in SF is balmy compared to the frozen tundra that was the mid-west this year and the snowmageddon that was the east. But whine a little I must.
The rain poured down yesterday (and yes, I fully understand that we are not Rhode Island that our interstates are still above the water line) - and the temp dropped perilously to 45 degrees. In our own weeny way - that's a big deal. Cold and wet. A bad combo.
When it came for bed I quickly considered, and then dismissed, getting the yummy warm duvet. I was too lazy to riffle through the closet and get down the now hermetically sealed puffy concoction (which when trapped in one of those air-sucking storage bag only measures about 24 inches square and about 1.5 inches tall - I still get a little thrill about the whole take the air out make shit small thing..). So, I hopped in to bed and tried to warm up.
In the middle of the night I awoke. Cold feet still not warm. Cold nose never gonna get warm. Inclination to climb out of marginal warmth in to cold room to hunt down plastic encased source of warmth not happening. So I lay there and tried to imagine myself warm.
I imagined beaches. I imagined saunas. I imagined Cambodia. I imagined holding cups of steaming tea. I imagined having an increase of inspiration and motivation to haul my happy ass out of bed and just get the damn comforter - or just a pair of socks for krissake. I imagined a hot flash right about then would have been a bodacious happy coincidence.
And then I though, hey? What's the deal with that? Why can't you just conjure them up when it's convenient? Why can't having hot flashes be a super power? Most woman get them for some period of time in their lives. Usually they come when you don't want them. You're standing in the grocery line and all of a sudden you feel like Charlie McGee from the Firestarter has taken out a vendetta on you for no reason at all. You're having a perfectly fine night of sleep when all of Satan's minions take it upon themselves to remind you of the temperature in hell. Yeah, the whole thing is mostly insanely inconvenient.
So, I'm thinking, since there's nothing to be done about hot flashes and their fickleness in coming and going - - shouldn't there be some kind of counterbalance? Some kind of compensation that would make the whole of menopause a more equitable scenario between woman and nature? Like being able to call on hot flash at will.
You get a little chilly in the refrigerated food section at that same market - you have the super power to conjure up a little warmth. The automatic seat warmers in your car are on the fritz...go you...hot cross buns! You're too lazy to drag your keister out of bed on a chilly night - gazinga! You've got toasty tootsies.
I imagined it would only be the fair and just solution. I also imagined that you might be required to wear your super power super suit under your clothing at all times, but if it also held your middle aged jiggly butt in check I think that many of us would get on board. And it was on that that thought, that the need to sleep overcame the need for warmth. I curled up in to the trying-to-get-warm fetal position and dreamt of Fiji instead. Yup, I had about the same chance of really being on a beach in Fiji as I did bringing forth the inner-body-broil of a hot flash. Alas. Life is not fair.