Thursday, September 1, 2011

An Open Letter to the Summer of 2011

Stop. Now.
Dear Summer of 2011,

I give up. I'm waving the white flag. Please stop with the heat and dust, with the grasshoppers and crickets, with the humidity and sweat.

You win.

You have been a horrible, mean, vicious season, and I see you there with your "Mwahahahaha! Have some more heat TODAY!" Oh, there are moments of unintended beauty, such as this morning when the sunlight streamed through the dust cloud that enveloped the ENTIRE CAMPUS after Husband mowed our lawn, but I am over you. I concede that you have beaten me with your relentless efforts that make me feel as if my entire life is a hot flash. (Oh, sorry, Boys. I promised to warn you before I used Those Words, didn't I?)

You have set the record for the most 100-degree days, a record that had stood since 1936. You realize how long ago that was, don't you, Summer of 2011? People in 1936 didn't even air conditioners to keep them cool while they watched "Toddlers and Tiaras." The horror!

But now that you have won, please go away. It is September. We want to see autumn leaves drifting by our windows, autumn leaves of red and gold. We're ready for pumpkins and scarecrows.

Yes, I know that in February I'll be wishing you were back because by then I'll be whining about how cooooold I am, and how tiiiiiiired I am of slush being tracked into the house. That's a whine for another day though.

For today, Summer of 2011, go away.



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