It’s that time of year again. Summer.
Summer has always been my least favorite season. It just doesn’t seem to agree with me. I’m not just built for summer life. I’m like a Yeti. I thrive in the cold.
Plus, I have big feet, I spend most of my time in solitude, and I have a thick tangle of hair that is constantly shedding yet never seems to lessen.
There are just so many things to dislike about this time of year. Oh, let me count the horrors.
- The 100+ degree weather.
- The sticky humidity that weighs down so heavily on you that it feels like you’re trying to breathe in water.
- The constant layer of sweat on the back of my neck.
- The inability to get a good night’s sleep despite two fans on full blast.
- The armies of bugs coming that have come out of hibernation: mosquitoes, and June bugs, and wasps, and bees, and spiders.
Yep. ‘Tis the season of claustrophobic heat, plague-like swarms, and blinding sunlight. Fun times.
Let’s not forget to mention the fact that I can’t go out in direct sunlight with burning like a candle. One minute, I’m my normal, pale self, and the next I’ve turned into a terrifying human-lobster hybrid.
Summer is the worst.
Then again, I can’t honestly say that there’s nothing about summer that I enjoy. The colorful, sugary goodness of a snocone, for example. Or, freshly cut watermelon. Sweet iced tea, brewed by mother nature herself. Thunderstorms. The smell of sunscreen. Beach towels. Swimming.
I’ve always loved swimming.
Okay, so maybe summer isn’t the worst.
However, I did just recently have an allergic reaction to sunscreen. Betrayed by the very thing that’s supposed to protect my fair, sensitive skin from the evil rays of the summer sun. Who knows if I can ever trust it again? What if I’m forced to endure sunburn after sunburn for the rest of my life?
Never mind. Summer is the worst.
At least it’s almost over. I hope.