Summer, How I Loathe Thee. Let Me Count the Ways

There was a time I liked summer. We got along great, mainly because she was all about fun. Freedom from responsibility. No more teachers, no more books and all that rah rah. Then, things started to change. She wanted attention all the time. The relationship became more about work and less about fun. That’s when I started noticing winter. How cool she was. Slick. And I began to notice all the flaws of summer that the fun had just been masking:

• Bugs
• Heat
• Humidity
• Lawn mowing
• Weeding
• Sand
• Bathing suits
• Sunburns
• Farmers tans
• Peeling
• Bug bites
• Sweating

But you know what? Everything crystallized for me last night. You want to know why I don’t like summer at all anymore? I’ll give you 86 reasons why not. 86 reasons why at 11 o’clock on a June night, summer is dreadful. If you add in heat index, I’ll give you a few reasons more. Seriously. I moved to Maine to get away from this heat. And while, true, it’s worse down in Philly and New York and the like, it’s still plenty too hot up by me.

Excuse me. I’ve got to go find some ice water . . .

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