I suppose it could be considered a type of seasonal depression, and the long, stupid summer months always make it worse.
To put it simply: once again I am done with summer and ready for autumn. To be honest I have been done with summer for about 2 months now.
I have always had a problem with the seasons. There seems to be a bit of a discrepancy in how long they want to last and how long I want them to last. I have always thought that maybe 8 seasons would suit me better.
It wasn't until one of my recent 'I'm ready for fall' rants that I realized how little I cared for summer - and it's not the heat or the humidity. Those are two things that I actually like about the stupid season.
Winter holds the promise of cute snow flakes. Spring brings with it the blossoms. Autumn has the changing of leaves and apples and all the great things associated with fall. And then there's summer.
Summer doesn't actually do anything. It just kind of maintains what spring started and setting up fall. It forces people to run air conditioning and make me cold. Stupid summer.
So here I am, working on putting together a calendar of events and reading about all these wonderful things coming up, in the fall and winter, and I can feel myself choking up and remembering great fall seasons of the past and, generally pining away for the next great season.
Sure, I know that 2 weeks into fall I'll be ready for winter and so the curse continues. That is why I move that we institute an 8 season year and make my life just a little easier.
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