Pity the poor PianoLady who lived with me for three days last weekend and saw too closely my hourly hot flashes where I start mopping my brow and ripping off clothes. And she ate many meals with me where I acted like Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally" every time I placed an order. Hold this, hold that.
I'm having a hard time in rehearsals for the show that previews tonight and opens tomorrow night. In the middle of playing some complex piece of music (and there's a freaking lot of complex music in this show!), I'll suddenly feel overwhelmed with heat and try to maintain my concentration on the music while I figure out how to take some clothes off.
Last night between numbers I stood up and put my jacket on again. Robert looked at me and said, "What is it? First you're hot and then you're cold." I told him I no longer have a thermostat.
He smartly replied, "You need to get in touch with your inner thermostat."
I smiled.
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