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Dragging my butt.....
Mar. 13th, 2015 08:07 pmLife can be bizarre at times. This morning over b'fast in the MD lounge at the hospital I overheard a couple of my male colleagues bitching about their wives' hot flashes and putting up with 'freezing' during the night in their bedrooms. I thought, "dudes, count your {expletive deleted} blessings." I have a husband who thinks sauna is the Finnish word for bedroom.
I'm exhausted right now. This is my third night in a row with no more than 4 hours of sleep. Wednesday, I cannot blame on LJ. He did not light a fire in the wood stove, so the room was cool and comfortable to sleep in. I was however on call and the call gods conspired to keep me awake with nursing home call after nursing home call for most of the night. However, both Tuesday and again last night he did light fires and I got blasted out of the bed room by the heat.
Last night we retired to bed for some quality marital time. Now one expects, or at least isn't surprised to get hot and sweaty when involved in that, right? Well, the room was in the low to mid 80's when we started, and a whomping 95 degrees when we were done. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can just hear most of you recounting tales of steaming up the car windows on some country lover's lane back in your early 20's. I can guarantee none of those vehicles had a wood stove with 3 sizable logs ablaze in the back seat. I found I was lying in a pool of sweat. Not comfortable and sure as hell NOT conducive to sleep. I wound up opening the window as well as the patio door; in an hour the room had come down to an overly warm, but at least acceptable 84 degrees. By the time I finally fell asleep, it was a few minutes past 3, I believe. The alarm went off at 7.
Just f**k me. (Figuratively. I'm too tired to consider anything other than figuratively.)
This morning I left him dozing as I headed out the door (or was that yesterday?) My first patient at my office was another married gay man who took one look at me as asked if I'd had a rough night on call. I bitched about the heat and he laughed - seems his husband is always cold as well. I countered with, "fine, after supper tonight you come to my place and I'll send my husband to yours. It's not likely to get either of us laid, but at least we'll be able to sleep!"
I'm now headed for home, intent on changing those sweat stained sheets before I go to bed. Which is going to be sooner rather than later. He can fix his own bloody dinner tonight. I'm way too tired to even think about cooking. So help me, if there is a fire going in that wood stove when I get home, I will explode, and it won't be pretty.
I'm exhausted right now. This is my third night in a row with no more than 4 hours of sleep. Wednesday, I cannot blame on LJ. He did not light a fire in the wood stove, so the room was cool and comfortable to sleep in. I was however on call and the call gods conspired to keep me awake with nursing home call after nursing home call for most of the night. However, both Tuesday and again last night he did light fires and I got blasted out of the bed room by the heat.
Last night we retired to bed for some quality marital time. Now one expects, or at least isn't surprised to get hot and sweaty when involved in that, right? Well, the room was in the low to mid 80's when we started, and a whomping 95 degrees when we were done. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can just hear most of you recounting tales of steaming up the car windows on some country lover's lane back in your early 20's. I can guarantee none of those vehicles had a wood stove with 3 sizable logs ablaze in the back seat. I found I was lying in a pool of sweat. Not comfortable and sure as hell NOT conducive to sleep. I wound up opening the window as well as the patio door; in an hour the room had come down to an overly warm, but at least acceptable 84 degrees. By the time I finally fell asleep, it was a few minutes past 3, I believe. The alarm went off at 7.
Just f**k me. (Figuratively. I'm too tired to consider anything other than figuratively.)
This morning I left him dozing as I headed out the door (or was that yesterday?) My first patient at my office was another married gay man who took one look at me as asked if I'd had a rough night on call. I bitched about the heat and he laughed - seems his husband is always cold as well. I countered with, "fine, after supper tonight you come to my place and I'll send my husband to yours. It's not likely to get either of us laid, but at least we'll be able to sleep!"
I'm now headed for home, intent on changing those sweat stained sheets before I go to bed. Which is going to be sooner rather than later. He can fix his own bloody dinner tonight. I'm way too tired to even think about cooking. So help me, if there is a fire going in that wood stove when I get home, I will explode, and it won't be pretty.
