Hot Flash

I have been Hot for 2 days straight now.  Not hot like "Wow, I am smokin'" or "Wow, it is really hot outside, think I'll have a popsicle and take a dip in the pool."  Like internally-every-fiber-of-my-being-is-buring-up Hot.  Like nothing-can-cool-me-down-not-even-a-bath-in-liquid-nitrogen Hot.  I have never had this odd sensation before.  So, I asked FNF, who happens to be a nurse.  "Sounds like a hot flash," she said.  "Didn't you just get your IUD out?  The hormone inbalance is probably messing you up."  Oh, yeah, I DID just get that out...(but that's another post for another day).

But Still...A Hot Flash?  My mom has hot flashes.  And she's slightly older than me.  And has grandkids.  A lot of them.  I think Chief has hot flashes.  But she's way older than me too, as far as siblings go.  Chief, do you have hot flashes?  Because of these, I typically associate Hot Flashes with one thing:  menopausal cranky old women.

So it couldn't possible be a hot flash could it?  And hot flashes don't last for 2 frickin days either.

Like, Wednesday night, we were having our monthly Girl's Night, and I still had my super-cute-paid-way-too-much-but-makes-me-look-skinnier-than-I-actually-am dress on from work.  So, when we all sat on the ground to play a spirited round of Whonoo, I of course tucked my legs under my arse like a true lady.  But I was so. damn. hot.  So of course, sweat is just oozing down my legs from the crevice behind my knees.  And my armpits were soaked.  And my feet were slick.  And my pancreas and kidneys were on fire.  And all I wanted to do was jump up, turn on the hose, strip down naked and yell, "Girls Gone Wild!" and see if anyone would join me.  However, this group is moderately conservative (understatement) and I didn't think it would go over too well. 
Then today, I'm on campus, just got here, and I have a new student.  He's what we call "sponsored."  So, someone is paying for him to be here.  Cool, whatever, fine, I have a lot of students like that.  But I am sweating like a pig, my feet are as swollen as when I delivered the Bug so I am walking around campus barefoot, and I am not in the mood to deal with anything out of the ordinary.  And he is out of the ordinary.  50ish, LOOoooong gray hair, button-up shirt that really needs to be buttoned-up more...showing off more LOOoooong gray hair, LOOoooong nasty fingernails and a pack of Marlboros in his shirt pocket.  Great.  So, I get him all set up, and start trying to get him caught up.  And he starts talking.  And doesn't. stop. talking.  All.  Night.  Long. 

Come to find out, he hasn't been able to talk to anyone who cares what he is saying for a really long time.  I found this out after he asked me to please send his progress reports to his parole officer.  Did I mention that sweat was dripping down my face the entire time I was trying to deal with this?  So, he finally stops talking long enough to ask me, "So, how do I turn this thing on?"  He pointed at the computer.  I excused myself politely.  I went to the bathroom, shut myself in a stall, and began kicking the stall door while screaming "I DON'T GET PAID ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH THIS $(*)*($$)*!!!!"  And I'm still Hot.  And the kicking and screaming makes me more Hot. 

And then I realize that being overly Hot isn't the only thing this hormone inbalance has jacked up.  And I contemplate driving back over to the Dr.'s office and dumpster diving until I find the contraption and demand that it be put back.

But I went back to my classroom.  I showed Hairy Hal how to turn on the computer.  I poured water down my back.  And now I am typing this.  And praying that I never get old and experience menopause.