Sweating Buckets

Yus, yus, yus! I sweat and indeed I DO sweat.* I've whined about it before on this blog.

• Most recently, when I expressed my undying affection for our new ceiling fan.
• In June, when I wrote about taking antidepressants.
• A year ago when I bemoaned my follicular frustrations when job-hunting.
• When we first moved back to Ottawa's humidity.

What I haven't yet explained is that I am no ordinary sweater, er, person who sweats. As I wrote in my post about taking antidepressants,

They make me sweat like an icy beer on a humid day. Not pretty. (I have actually corroded the enamel on my hair clips.)

I sweat with the very least exertion. And it's not just the ole pits, which would be fine. Antiperspirant covers that. It's my fricking HEAD. 

Today, for example, I had a very simple task: drawing lines and writing text on sheets of Bristol board. Easy-peasy. There was not enough room at my cubicle (where I have a strategically placed fan to cool me), so I was working in an air-conditioned meeting room. 

After ten minutes, my hair was drenched, my face was dripping onto the Bristol board. SPLOT ... SPLOT ... SPLOT. And that's with taking breaks to go back to my fan (which I could not move because of an awkward plug location) to cool down.

My particular affliction is a mild case of "serotonin syndrome." I say "mild" in the sense that my sweating is not life-threatening, which true serotonin syndrome can be. The obvious treatment is ... to stop taking the drug. However, when I stop taking my antidepressant, I become depressed, which, in my case, is a life-threatening (and life-enjoyment-threatening) condition. 

So, I stay on the drugs. Side effects are worth the cost, but let me tell you, it is MISERABLE! (Just because I've accepted the side effects doesn't mean that I have to be happy about them or that I can spare you from sharing in my misery!) The only thing I have found that really works is fans.

Add menopausal hot flashes to this mix and I fear that I am at serious risk of spontaneous combustion (like my barbecue), which just happens to be Allie Brosh's solution to accidentally responding to someone who isn't talking to you. So, um, I guess I've got that going for me.

Magnificent artwork by the inimitable**
Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half.

Fortunately, I currently have a small fan pointed at me, and a cold glass of sangria by my side, so I'm good right now. But I'll let you know if I do burst into flames. 

* A reference to Beatrix Potter: "Yus, yus, yus! they eat and indeed they DO eat!" said Aunt Pettitoes, looking at her family with pride."


** I just learned that I have been using "inimicable" incorrectly all these years, when I really meant "inimitable." So embarrassed.