Oh fer cryin’ in a lard bucket…

My ears are burning. BURNING. They are also bright red. Bright! RED!

And so hot they hurt.

@*^&@in’ perimenopause…like it’s not bad enough that you are making me feel old and messin’ with my monthlies so bad that my bodily water system doesn’t know whether to retain or make me pee every six seconds, like it isn’t enough that I’m wrestling with severe bouts of emotional weirdness, like it isn’t enough that I have apparently started this as early as possible on the ‘normal’ scale so I probably get to enjoy it for many, many years to come…you @^*&@in’ inhuman…celestial…design flaw!…LAY OFF MY EARS, OR-OR-OR…I SHALL HOLD MY BREATH UNTIL I TURN BLUE AND ALSO STOMP AND SCREAM AND CRY AND PERHAPS EAT AN ENTIRE TUB OF CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM SO THERE!!!!

Possibly I should hold the ice cream against my ears instead. Less damaging to the hips, in any case…and might actually help…hmmmmmmm…

(The ears thing? Yeah. It’s bugging me a lot. It used to be, like, one in every eight or nine hot flashes would include the ears, but now it’s not only every.stinking.time, but over the last couple weeks it’s started being the only hot part. Seriously hot. Painfully hot. And they are sooooooo red, it looks like I’m tremendously embarrassed or have a wicked sunburn or something. And with my new-ish short hair? No hiding them.) (Wait! Hang on! I’ve just decided my next knitting project is going to be a hat…) (Whiiiiiiich will undoubtedly make the ‘hot’ part unbearable.) (Plus I hate wearing hats.) (No, really. I’d rather freeze my ears off. And half have, on numerous occasions.) (So perhaps this is merely their revenge, for forty{mumble} winters of abuse?) (Also? ARGH!) (Carry on with your lives, citizens...nothing here but an insane woman ranting about things that can't be helped because really, nothing helps a hot flash like a heapin' helpin' of posting embarrassing personal facts on the Internet...)