Summer is hard.
Don’t get me wrong; summertime has its charms… But see here, I have kids. And I live in the USA, which means school vacation is a long, long, beastie. So halfway through summer, I was done with summer. My husband is done with summer. Even the kids are done with summer by now. My son has organized and reorganized his school supplies. My daughter’s freaking school bag has been packed for a week!
Can I officially declare summer over, yet?
Much as I enjoy those first lazy days of reading, hanging out with the family, and doing not much else, by now I’m looking forward to the cooler days of September. It’s too hot for gardening, or housework, or anything requiring half a brain.
It’s certainly too hot for writing, even if I wasn’t sure to be interrupted by completely unreasonable requests for lunch or the ever-present, “I’m booooooored.” And then when I answer, “You had friends over yesterday, and the day before that we went to the bookstore and the pool, so how about a videogame or some nice quiet TV, mmmmm?” they look at me as though I’m speaking French. Which perhaps I am, I don’t know, I think my brain shorted out sometime in the early days of August.
Where was I? Oh yeah, September dreaming. Cooler days. Routine. Quiet. Just me and my laptop and my morning cup of tea. Bliss! So come on in, you winds of autumn; enter summer’s house with impunity and blow away those mental cobwebs.
And oh, summer? Would you mind closing the door on the way out? I appreciate it, thanks. See you next year!