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I think that the majority of the Midwest took a collective breath, and sigh of relief yesterday. The oppressive heat and humidity that for weeks had been turning us all into vaguely damp and listless shadows of our former selves has finally broken.
I was able to turn off the air conditioning for the first time in weeks (thank you, thank you God – our checkbook, which absolutely flinched at the last utility bill thanks you, too).
I was able to throw open the windows and draw in cool, fresh air – the kind of summer air that lights, soft as a kiss, upon your skin (as opposed to what we had before, which was air that lay on your skin like some kind of wet tarp, smothering you).
I am such a lover of fall! Every year, at about the end of May, I start to look forward to September. Some people, like my fiancé, not only enjoy the summer and its hellish barrage of heat, but revel in it. He loves it. He wallows in it like an otter in a river. I fade. I go utterly transparent – all my sass and fire melt out and pool around my feet. All my ambition runs out, all my joie de vivre dissipates. And I spend the summer months (especially this summer, which according to the forecasters, has been the hottest summer in a decade) longing for fall.
I love fall. I cannot be alone in this: people loved this season so much, they christened it twice: once descriptively (fall), once poetically (autumn). Mmmm. Autumn. (Imagine Homer Simpson drooling over a doughnut…that’s how I feel, anticipating fall!!)
This morning, with the windows thrown open, has felt like a benediction. Like a promise, a foretelling. Like a lifeline, telling me to just hang on a bit longer, because soon every day will feel like this.
I love the clear cloudless blue skies of fall – I don’t think that they look quite the same any other time. I love the crispness of the air, the freshness. I love that it feels like something to be appreciated, since you know what’s coming after. I love the way the leaves always seem to turn all-of-a-sudden. Every year I watch and watch, trying to make sure that I catch the trees segueing from one palette to the next. No dice – somehow, I always seem to walk out the door to a world awash in brilliant sunset colors, having somehow missed the turning.
I love the mood of fall – a little bit pensive, a little bit joyful. I love pumpkins. I love tall fields of cornstalks rattling their dry and dusty bones in the crisp fall wind. I love leaves bunching, blown into corners and doorways. I love them carpeting streets with brilliance and jewel-toned color. I love the crunch they make under my feet. I slosh through them, kicking them up, like a kid.
Today, I am loving exactly what is: sweet summer air wafting into the windows, filling the house with the best of summer (wildflower smells, soft sunshine). Today, I am cherishing this brief reprieve from the kiln of summer’s torments. Hope the rest of you are enjoying it, too!!
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn’t it a pity
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
All around people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
Zomigosh. It is so freaking hot. I have been barely capable of monosyllabic speech, much less able to string coherent sentences together.
You know, I try to find the good in things. I try to look at the silver lining, see the cup half-full, see the silk purse and not the sow’s ear. Sometimes, though, I just hate stuff…like everyone else.
This post is a tribute to the depth and breadth of my utter loathing of summer.
I hate sweating.
I hate the way the polyester in my bra seems to soak up all that sweat and just slide around, supporting nothing.
I hate how my own legs stick to one another.
I hate humidity.
I hate not being able to do my own hair without my hands sticking to every bloody strand and bungling it all up for me.
I hate that the instant I put foundation on, it starts sliding off my face.
I hate how the heat saps my will to live (or to do anything, really).
I hate going outside into the hellish sun beating down on me.
I hate that the instant I walk into the sun, my super-fair skin starts to burn.
I hate those creepy heat mirages.
I hate how all the color leaches out of everything in the summer heat.
I hate that heat rises (we live in a second story apartment with NO cross ventilation).
I hate that central air conditioning is not standard in every habitable place.
I hate, hate, hate being hot.
I hate, hate, hate summer.
(Whimper, whimper, whine, moan, cry).
Okay! Done whining for the moment. I am going to nuzzle close to the Carter-era window unit the management company was kind enough to bring by yesterday and install. Even a brand-new unit wouldn’t be able to cool off our apartment to my satisfaction. I am just grateful that we have one – and that, Carter-era or not, it’s working very hard over there in the corner to cool it down in here.
Sigh. Is it September yet???