growing in the goo

It's 3:40 am, and I'm writing in my blog.

My apartment is so hot. Not just like "oooh, this is a tad bit warm" but a "clothes are optional" type of hot. E bought a thermometer over the weekend, and put it over the heat. The thing read 110 degrees (F). Granted, that's over the heat, so it can be expected to be a little steamy. But 110?

So I took the thing into my bedroom, and put it on my bed. I puttered around for a bit, then came back. The thermometer had dropped to a measly 95 degrees. 95 DEGREES!!!! In the middle of winter!!!!

Luckily, we have sliding doors, so we keep those open for the majority of the time. When I went to bed tonight, mine was only open a sliver. I was optimistic, the heat seemed to be going down. It seems as though it goes in cycles, from horribly hot to kinda bearable. I was hoping we were on the upswing of bearable.

Since then, I had woken up twice. Once to open the door a tiny bit more, then to pull it open all the way. I think it's finally an okay temperature in there. Keep in mind that it's snowing outside (and absolutely beautiful, by the way), and I need to have a sliding door completely open in order to have a bearable temperature.

The third time I awoke, I came out to talk to E, who was still awake. I'm up partially because it's my normal wake up time, about 6 hours after going to bed. I went to sleep obscenely early tonight (9:45 or so) because I was tired and feeling kinda bummed. For no reason, but just kind of in a funk.

I was also motivated to get up because blogger was down earlier in the night, and I'm totally addicted and hadn't gotten my fix. And yes, I know how pathetic that is. See how I admitted it in kind of a run-on sentence?

So I come out here, and C-note hears us talking, so she comes out too. She asks if I'm okay, which is pretty normal, since I'm up in the middle of the night and generally once I'm in bed, I'm in bed. I'm like "yeah...just a bit hot."

So she replies by saying that I've been restless, which is her kind way of saying that I've been a total weirdo in my sleep. Apparently I've been practically yelling about how hot I am, and she came in to check on me, and I threw off my covers.

(brief flashback to me waking up, to find that I had pulled my shirt up, and I'm wondering if I had flashed her. Sorry!!)

E then chimes in with saying that she's been hearing me talking/yelling too.

Now, besides the immediate issue of how hot this apartment is, this (re)opens a whole other can of worms. Who the hell will want to marry me when on a nightly basis I shout and talk and gesticulate in my sleep?

There's something for me to focus on, other than my cracked lips from the oppressive blasts of hot air.