My inspiration for this post came from my dear, longtime blogging friend, Debbie @ Musings by an ND Domer's Mom, who is not only a gifted...
As many of my longtime readers already know, I do not enjoy summertime.
It’s not exactly summer that I don’t enjoy, but rather the heat.
If I had a choice of either freezing to death in Antarctica or being scorched to death in the Mohjave Desert…Antarctica would always win.
Heat for me means anything above 75 degrees.
Comfortable for me means nothing higher than 50.
I know that most people love summer and would much rather be hot than cold, but what can I tell you?
I’m a freak of nature.
Not only does the heat bother me, but I also can’t stand how happy and wired everyone in the city becomes during the summer.
It’s like they just took two hits of Ecstasy and snorted a gram of cocaine simultaneously.
HAPPY! HAPPY! HAPPY!
I prefer cold, gray, drizzly days when I can walk down the street with my umbrella and a cup of Starbucks coffee while tap dancing in large puddles to Singing in the Rain.
Either that, or walking to the grocery store in my flip-flops during a snow blizzard while singing Frosty the Snowman.
I’ve got to admit though, so far the summer heat has not been bad.
And for that I am very grateful.
In fact, this June has been one the coolest June’s I’ve ever been through.
I realize however, that eventually it’s going to get hot and I’ll have to subject you to my once a year kvetch-post about suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous HEAT.
But in the meantime, please know that I’m summer lovin’ and having a blast; eagerly anticipating the day when then the temperature reaches a glorious 102 degrees, and I’m sitting in my apartment eating a nice cold piece of watermelon while spitting seeds out the window; trying to hit pedestrians on the sidewalk who appear to be so FRIGGIN' HAPPY about summer.
I know, just say it…
…I’m a bitch.
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