I have been so hot lately.
Molten hot. The surface of Mars hot, even.
Unfortunately for hubby it’s not in the “come hither” sense. It’s more like a “get all these covers off me and turn the fan on high – I don’t care if it’s only 61 degrees in here!” kind of way.
Last night was a HOT night of epic proportions.
Being hot and not getting any sleep make for a very unhappy pregnant woman.
6:30 a.m. saw me clamoring out of bed, grabbing the blanket from the floor (that I’d previously tossed of the bed at 3 a.m.), and trekking into the living room, pillow in tow, to try sleeping on my sweet glider/recliner/rockingchair (courtesy of my awesome mom-in-law).
I hadn’t had a wink of sleep since 3 a.m. and apparently I wasn’t meant to get any useful sleep in my recliner either.