I love summer. I love everything about it. Except Triple E. I hate Triple E. Triple E is the one thing I do not love about summer.
(A brief aside: for those of you fortunate enough not to live in southeastern Massachusetts, below sea and I.Q. level, Triple E is Eastern Equine Encephalitis, a mostly fatal virus transmitted through the bite of an infected mosquito. And even if you manage to survive, you are left in such a state that you pretty much probably wish you were dead.)
Triple E, in a word, sucks.
But I digress.
I love summer. I love the heat, the bare feet, the sleeping later than 5:30 a.m., the staying up past 10 p.m., the wearing of the bathing suit all day, the tanned skin, the birds in the morning, the peepers at night, the dripping watermelon, the beefy tomatoes, the sweet corn, the kids’ laughter outside…
But I think if I had summer all year long I’d be dead.
I Love summer.
I Love summer with a Vengeance.
I am to summer what Lance Armstrong is (or was) to the Tour de France. Unfortunately, I do not have the benefit of controlled substances so, I am, therefore, exhausted.
Every day in the summer I wake up and say, yes, I literally say this out loud: What are we going to do today?
It’s like I’m on that old game show, Beat the Clock, and I have to get in as much fun as possible before the autumnal equinox. I am that crazed contestant in that money wind machine, snatching at summer days like they’re one hundred dollar bills.
All I can think is, summer is short don’t waste it.
DON’T WASTE IT!
It’s like I was raised in the Great Summer Depression and had to go without July. Like every hour of summer is a shaving of soap and I must scrounge up every one I can get and work it into a good lather.
And this summer was tough. It didn’t rain once. All right, maybe once, but that was the day we went to laser tag until midnight.
Every day I woke up, secretly hoping, wishing for just one rainy day…rolled over and saw the sun. Half of me was happy, the other half resigned, but determined.
Must go on, must have fun, must go play beach volleyball.
I am to summer what Arnold Schwarzenegger is to Sarah Connor.
Now you know why there hasn’t been any words written in this space since May. The sun came out.
I am to summer what a gerbil is to his exercise wheel.
And, I have to be honest, I am ready to get off.
I’m ready for the cool nights, that clean snap in the air, the colored leaves, pumpkins and hardy mums. The new season of Survivor.
I know, I’m breaking the Cardinal Rule of Summer, wishing it away, but I need a break.
I need a vacation from my summer vacation.
It’s like I’ve been in Vegas for the past nine or so weeks, except instead of gambling and drinking I’ve been hiking, swimming, biking, camping, and barbecuing.
I am to summer what Wayne Newton is to Las Vegas and I have a summer hangover.
But, in the meantime, I have one day left.
And the sun is out…