Midlife, accompanied by a little Texas heat, is a recipe certain to bring on some sizzling, hot flashes. Hot, hot, hot and you are gonna sweat! Or, as some lil’ southern gals would say, "glisten."

Folks who reside in the Lone Star State come to accept bedtime temperatures in the 90-95 degree range. Could there possibly be a worse climate for menopausal women? I don’t think so, darlin’!

Even before "midlife" slapped me in the face, I stewed about our A.C. kickin’ the bucket during sweltering hot spells. My hubby, Jerry, and I were lucky over the years—no breakdowns. We did, however, experience a freeze up! Who knew an air conditioner could even do that? I mean, anything you can turn on, you should be able to turn off. Well, it just ain’t so.

Not until menopause began to terrorize my days and nights did our A.C. developed one of those bizarre freeze ups. It was an oppressive night and even though the hour was late I called our trusty A.C. man. I thought he might just hang up when I screeched, "I swear I haven’t been drinking, Glenn—but something is very wrong. The A.C. won’t turn off!"

He yawned and explained our options. Let it run non-stop, pile on some blankets, and wait until he arrived in the morning. But, beware—the unit could be damaged! Or, he would give us instructions for turning it off, although that meant no starting it up again. We chose the latter when faced with possibly buying a new A.C.

By the time we hopped into bed the house was cooler than normal and it was splendid. Still, in due time I was besieged by a blasted, hot flash attack, and a husband snoring to beat the band. I tossed back the sheet. Whew—thank the Lord for ceiling fans!

When my glistening body was nearly dry; I began to shiver and my teeth even set to chattering. I yanked the bedcovers up to my nose but there was no sleep to be had, for hubby’s snoring had evolved into something akin to the snort of a hog!

Pure frustration brought on another firestorm from the waist up, accompanied by wet, stringy hair. I charged out of bed, stomped into the living area, and closed all the blinds tightly. I ripped my nightclothes off, except for my panties, and pitched them across the room with a giggle. "There!" I tripped the ceiling fan and flopped onto the couch directly beneath it. Ah, relief once more—just maybe sleep would come after all.

Well, it wasn’t to be and I was hopping mad. As if the darned flashes weren’t enough, sleeplessness had become another menopausal monster to contend with, and sadly, the monster seemed to be winning the battle! The more I yearned for sleep, the wider-awake I became—night after night after night.

So, I tiptoed around the house and wracked my brain. How was I going to pass the hours until morning when silence was an absolute "must." Should those precious snoozing pups hear a strange middle-of-the-night sound, they’d fly straight up out of bed yapping. Yep, ready to give an intruder a good Texas killin’for sure. Jerry would be right behind them and we’d all be tired and cranky come mornin’.

There was but one thing to do, eat, and eat chocolate! I could justify my decision by the calcium it contains—I’d be doing something good for my bones by warding off osteoporosis. Just another malady in a list with no end…

I was about to take my first delicious bite when I recalled its caffeine content, and my brownie of gigantic proportions would be one massive jolt. More sleep interference— drat it all. A teardrop rolled down my cheek and landed on my bare chest. "Aha! I’ll just wash it down with a glass of Merlot and they will counteract one another." I smiled at my wisdom. Feeling the need to pamper myself, I used one of my favorite crystal wine glasses…

The last thing I recall was a quick peek at the clock; it said 5:30 A.M. In what seemed only a matter of minutes, I jerked awake to the tickling of a shaggy, schnauzer beard dancing across my nose. The gang was up and at ‘em—a new day had dawned. Oh joy!

I headed towards our bedroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. Whoa, talk about a frightful reflection. "Well now, just call me Miss Haggetha!" I muttered aloud.

The shower ran full-force while I rummaged around in my nightstand drawer. Yet, in moments I heard the bathroom doorknob begin to turn and I zipped out of sight.

On my way to the kitchen I spied the pups. "Oh, no! Give me that you ornery little critters," I teased. My nighty had become the central game piece in a rowdy bout of tug-o-war. Talk about sleep deprivation, I was still nearly naked!

I slipped my nighty on and planted myself in a kitchen chair facing the doorway. When Jerry headed for the coffee pot, I wanted him to see the condition I was in—and I wanted some sympathy. My hair hung in my face and my eyes were puffy with purple tinged rings around them. Still, I mussed my hair a tad bit more for effect. My thinking even seemed fuzzy.

I could see him approaching; gee, he was quite handsome clad in his new, dark suit. Then, he was standing right in front of me as if everything was normal, including my dreadful appearance. He could not have made a worse mistake; the first words out of his mouth were, "And, how did you sleep, honey?"