I was waiting for a prescription and decided to take a stroll through the pharmacy aisles to browse pool floats and plastic drink tumblers shaped like coconuts. I finally found a three-foot-wide area of shelf space dedicated to the clearance flotsam and jetsam of summer’s last breath.
It’s August—yesterday was 95 degrees with 300% humidity.
After walking through aisles of Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations, I finally picked up the ear drops for the swimmer’s ear I got at the beach…because it is summer. I came home to drown my premature-end-of-the-summer blues with a nice summer ale, though my husband tells me pumpkin beers are on shelves now.
Why have we given up on summer? Today I had to put on shoes to avoid blistering my feet on blazing concrete, and my car is hotter than an Easy-Bake Oven. My mantra on these disgusting days is, “at least it’s not February.” Let’s not rush it. I want to buy bathing suits, have drinks with umbrellas, and enjoy lazy summer nights with impromptu gatherings of friends and family.
I’m won’t give up on summer
Memes declare hoodie weather imminent, and I’m pretty sure I smelled pumpkin spice wafting through the air when I walked downtown yesterday. I can’t stand sweaters, turtlenecks, and socks. Static electricity is my nemesis, a kryptonite that teaches my kids colorful language.
I hate being cold.
The entire list of things I like about winter can be summed up quickly: boots, the night sky, and the first snow. Only the first snow. I live in the south, where we cancel school before the first flake falls, and I get tired of using my vacation time to be trapped inside the house with children who get cold, wet, and cranky five minutes after I spend an hour getting them bundled up to go play.
Taking my kids out of the house already feels like packing up a small apartment; I end up carrying lunch boxes, book bags, the diaper bag, and 8,489 pieces of artwork because my six-year-old forgot how arms work. I am in no hurry to have to dig through the school lost and found for hats and gloves, or to try to find coats that are safe to wear in the car seat. And I’m certainly not eager to carry all that crap.
Long live summer!
Long live summer nights! Viva la daylight savings! Pour me a mojito and hang up a hammock; if you need me I’ll be reading a book next to my overgrown garden. My kids will be sweaty, dirty, and tired from days spent building forts and swimming. Forget hot cocoa and fireplaces, give me s’mores and a campfire any day.
I could live without the mosquitoes, though.