Now, before you all go judging me for my Snuggie-wearing dog… let me provide you with a little background.
My condo is cold. Now, I’m not just talking a little chilly. I’m talking C-O-L-D, cold. As in, today is December 1st in Iowa and I actually ran my air conditioner.
See, I’ve been dealing with this little thing called Cushing’s. And apparently, despite the fact that my body temperature hovers around 95.7 degrees [well below normal] I feel like I’m boiling from the inside out. The last time my sister Laura was here, she went into my closet to borrow a sweatshirt and then buried herself under a blanket.
I was sweating.
On the plus side, I’m totally prepared for menopause someday.
A little over a week ago, I had a discussion with my nurse about the fact that the H1N1 rampage that went through our town seemed to be subsiding. The result of that discussion is that I’m going to be letting people back in my house after months of seclusion, as long as they have no signs of illness and they aren’t in close contact with people who are showing signs of illness. I couldn’t wait to tell Susie on Thursday after the nurse left, and on Saturday her lovely family came over for a movie night.
All four of them spent the evening curled up under a blanket, huddled together on my couch, while I turned a mini fan on myself. I’m hot, people. And not in a good way.
So, I bought my dog a Snuggie. It was the humane thing to do.
“Don’t mess with me, people. I’m cold.
And a dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do.”
