That's hot.

In the past month, I have woken up every morning at 3am. And it's totally hot.

No really, it's totally f'ing hot.

Apparently during the night I turn into a member of the Fantastic Four and set myself on fire. When I wake up at 3am, I'm absolutely burning up down to my core. I'm 28 years old, and refuse to believe this is some sort of premenopausal thing. If I'm young enough to get grossed out by the idea of childbirth, I'm too young to be going through menopause.

But what it is, I have no clue. All I know is I wake up burning up and can't get cool to save myself. It's worth noting, much to my roommate's chagrin, that I insist on keeping the temperature in our apartment so cold one could arguably hang meat in our living room. We had friends over last week, and damn near had to loan our guests parkas and snow boots just to keep them comfortable long enough to watch Andy choose Tessa. I've even closed off one of the vents in the living room in a selfish attempt to redirect the air into my room. It seems to have worked, as my vent produces quite the wind when the AC kicks in. So the temperature around me clearly isn't the problem.

Maybe it's genetics? To say that my mother has temperature control issues would be putting it mildly. Several years ago, we were in DC in January. I'll repeat that: We were in DC in January. And my mother insisted on sleeping with the windows open. "Libby, this is not a hot flash. It's a POWER SURGE!" she exclaimed defensively when I questioned our sleeping arrangement. So that night, I slept wearing two sets of sweats, a toboggan hat, mittens and socks.

Come morning, a shelf of snow had settled on the inside of the hotel room window and there was a layer of ice on the floor. The only acknowledgement of this insanity was when she woke up, with me chattering and blue beside her, and asked if we could please *chatter* close *chatter* the *chatter* window. "Hmmm," she considered, "I guess it is quite brisk in here." Brisk?!? Are you kidding me? There's frost on the FLOOR!

But I digress. She at least had an excuse in menopause. Again, I don't have such an excuse. And yet I've begun sleeping curled up with an ice pack, and have just until the ice has melted to sleep. Which ends up being at 3am.

I've explained my situation to a few people. Some have suggested it's stress-related. Others think it's hormones. But the only solution anyone seems to suggest is acupuncture. So, I guess it's either set myself on fire, or shove needles in my face.

I welcome any thoughts on this matter. In the meantime, I'm crawling into my rotisserie of a bed to sleep until 3am curled up with an ice pack.