For all intents and purposes, summer is over. We burned through Labor Day weekend at a soccer tournament, and Zombiegirl is starting school tomorrow. Even though the official first day of Autumn is Friday, September 23rd, I’m taking liberties and calling tomorrow the first day of fall.
I am so over summer.
It’s not like it was a bad summer. There was the week at the beach house, Z-girl at 4-H camp, Atlantic City camping, Splish Splash and BBQ’s with friends. I also got a few crafts done, a garden planted (then harvested) and managed to convince MR to replace the molding in the kitchen. Beena got a new (old) car, Cheesestick turned 21 and I organized 48 years of pictures. We threw a party. Good times, good times. But, there was also the “C” scare (cancer or cervix, take your pick), a hail storm, Hurricane Irene and some not so nice incidences with so-called friends.
But that’s not why I’m over summer. I want it to be autumn for two very selfish reasons.
I want to wear my Uggs.
Yes, I miss my boots. Their comfy, pillowy softness .
I literally went all summer in various Converse Chucks. I didn’t even have to get a pedicure since I wore open-toed shoes once, just once, at Beena and Dad’s party. I didn’t show off my toes all summer. And if I didn’t show off my tootsies, then I might as well be wearing my Uggs.
But it’s still too warm. So that’s one reason I can’t wait for Fall.
The other reason is once the cool weather comes I probably won’t have to listen to Barry Manilow. Or Hall and Oates. Or any of the other music that makes me wonder if my neighbor plays for the other team.
MR and I haven’t used the air conditioner all summer. We didn’t even put it in. We get a nice breeze off the creek in the back (or through the parking lot for the community pool) and when it got stifling hot, we turned on a fan. We slept with the windows wide open and woke up to the sound of birds chirping.
Or several playings of “…her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…”
I’m talking about my neighbor, Mr. B and his really corny taste in music.
Don’t get me wrong, I love tunes. I have my own little radio station in my head. Yet when I hear the same CD (I think it’s a CD) played over and over very LOUDLY (well, it seems loud. Mr. B plays it in his garage which is approximately 20 feet from my bedroom window) I slip into a murderous rage. He’s not even IN the garage half the time, but the music keeps blaring away. He does turn it down when his wife gets home (again, I’m wondering if the man HAS balls) but she works all day on the weekends so I can’t even take a nap in peace.
Cold weather=closed windows=sleep in heavenly peace. I can’t wait.
So, Summer, thanks for everything but it’s time to move on. I want some peace and comfort.