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July 31, 2009

Is your sweater on?

I used to like summer, right? I mean ... right? The long, sultry days; the long, sultry nights. The flowers. The grass. The birds singing at 4:30 in the morning. The waves on the lake. The sun on the waves on the lake. The margaritas. The feeling that started in June, somewhere in my sinuses, disguised as hayfever, and then suddenly there I was in a pair of shorts outside on the deck with a sweating glass in my hand and it was July (my second favorite month) and it was hot out. The vacation feeling. The "let's have some fun" feeling.

But this summer ... I don't know. This summer, not so much. This summer feels suspiciously like somebody's idea of summer, but not mine.

"We haven't done anything," moans Miss Thing at me, exasperated. And she's right; we haven't. We've gone to the beach exactly once. Ditto for cook-outs. Horseback riding, which I even said yes to when Miss Thing asked me, nope.

Working in the yard? Please. Dinner and jazz on Friday nights at Mateo's? Uh uh. Company over for drinks? Yawn.

Miss Thing and I walk around the neighborhood in the darkening evenings, and talk. We watch the bats fly overhead, we try to catch a firefly, we say Hello to the dogs on their walks, and then we go home and I read, or I watch TV, and then I go to sleep. I watch TV. Since when do I watch TV in the summertime? It's summer, for God's sake; there is nothing on that is remotely worth watching.

And yet. This year, I can't seem to work it up for summer. It's Friday night and right now I feel like everybody on the planet has something to do, but not me. I think this ought to bother me more than it does.

I think, Shit, if I just can't be bothered to in the middle of summer, what on earth will I be like when it's winter?

I think, Who cares?

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)