As the clock hurtles itself in a suicidal mission towards midnight, the temperature is going out of the day and Hubby will be surfacing shortly, having gone back to bed for a nap thanks to a blazing furnace during the night.
Unfortunately he feels the cold more than most, and thus going to bed with me in the winter is always toasty warm as I’m like a hot water bottle that never goes cold. He knows he can snuggle in no matter how cold his hands, backside or feet are and I won’t mind, because it works both ways as he’s cooling me down when I get too hot.
The menopause in a box is working.
These are the anti-oestrogen tablets I am likely to have to take for the next few years, one of the possible side effects being hot flushes. The consultant I saw suggested I took them at night so that I’d flush before morning (makes me sound like a toilet, so glad my initials aren’t WC) and thus not suffer too much during the day.
That’s OK to a point as when I went through the menopause (long drawn out process for me), I was like a beacon in the fog showing the way for all shipping vessels up the channel.
In comparison now though, the menopause was a walk in the park.
As I slept merrily on, Hubby had to throw the covers off in the early hours as the heat FOR HIM was tremendous. Sleeping on the edge of the bed he could still feel the waves radiating off me, and I didn’t so much as stir as I dreamt of food and pianos amongst other things.
Much as we were expecting this, it’s a shame we can’t can or bottle it to save on our fuel bill. I suppose with even colder temperatures to come, this may turn out to be a good thing provided I don’t get the sweats with it too, as then we’d have the problem of damp bedding and would be up in the laundry every day.
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