I don’t feel good. I woke up sweaty. When I checked the thermostat it was 78. For a desert dweller like me 78 is chilly and a setting that will get me a $300 power bill if I try to maintain that temperature inside for very long. I should not be sweaty. I step outside thinking this will feel better. It’s 2 in the morning and probably over 80 degrees. It feels much hotter than inside. This is not relief. It hasn’t really cooled down for about a week now. Today’s expected high is 110 again.
And I don’t feel very good.
I’m achy and sweaty and miserable. I flop onto the couch. It feels cooler but I just can’t get comfortable. Now I’m chilly. Where is the blanket? The blanket only works for roughly three minutes after I have twisted and rolled and adjusted myself to make sure all of my toes were covered only to kick the stupid thing off because now I’m hot again and annoyed.
Do people who live in cold climates struggle this hard when they don’t feel good?
I use the phrase “don’t feel good” because this is not something that requires medical attention or even medicine. I’m not dying though I might moan like someone who is. Considering all the things I have done to this body over the years I am lucky I move at all so I should just shut up…but I don’t feel good.
I don’t sleep well. If I am lucky I get five or six interrupted hours a night. Between my potty breaks (we drink lots of water out here) and the dogs need to pee I can be up as many as four times in those five or six hours. You might say “get them a doggie door” and I will say go read my “Intro to Wildlife Photography” or even listen to the coyote howl I recorded. We are not getting a doggie door anytime soon.
Also I have a 17 year old dog. As it is now I can slide the glass door open all the way and he still has trouble finding his way out. Giving him a flap the size of his body to come and go through at a senile and mostly blind 17 years of age is just cruel. I love him so I get up.
I don’t want to turn on the TV because I’m afraid it will wake me up even more. I grab my smallest dog Tucker and use him as a heating pad for my upset stomach. He’s some form of terrier with soft hair and built like a sausage. He’s the perfect size and weight for my cramping tummy. I’d put him on my lower back if I could figure out a way to keep him there and not squash him. But now he’s over me and has wandered off to find his preferred spot in bed next to my husbands feet. He gets kicked out of bed every night multiple times. No dogs allowed. But Tucker has terrier attitude and simply waits until we fall asleep again to climb right back up.
It’s possible I ate one too many Doritos yesterday. I don’t keep them in the house very often because of my lack of control once the bag has been opened. My thumb is still orange. Doritos don’t make you achy do they? Honestly it doesn’t even matter if they did, I’d still eat the nacho cheese ones.
I’ve wandered the house now for an hour in search of a place to rest that isn’t too hot or too cold. I am an achy-sweaty-miserable Goldilocks. The struggle is real. I don’t know where to put me so I’m back to the couch.
I lay there eyes wide and irritated. Oh never mind just get up and go make coffee.
I just don’t feel good.