I’m a little bit cranky (and a little bit rock ‘n’ roll?), because today is the 1st of June, which in my world, is officially the first day of summer. To me, all of the seasons start on the first day of the month – December 1st starts winter, April 1st starts spring, June 1st starts summer and September 1st starts fall. Solstices and equinoxes mean nothing to me, renegade that I am.
So yeah, it’s summer in
. Notice I’m not *woo-hoo-ing* or *yay-ing* or expressing any delight or glee in the fact that it’s summer, and that is simply because it’s the one season I truly despise. Sure, in my tanorexic youth I loved it, but I was an idiot (aren’t all youths, really?). But these days, as surely as the Griswalds whistle zippity-doo-dah out of their assholes, I mutter *bleepity-bleep-bleep* every day that I wake up, look outside and see the sun blazing AGAIN. Although, to be fair to the sun, I do have a modicum of affection for it; after all, it sustains life on this planet and that deserves respect. But the HEAT….ugh, the heat L That’s the dealbreaker for me. What’s to enjoy about being hot, sweaty, and for far too many, SMELLY all the livelong day? *bleepity-bleep* Canada
Even my cats hate summer. They’re not outdoor cats, so they really look forward to and enjoy the time I allow them to play outside each day. As soon as I open the door and yell, “Outside???”, I hear a loud *BA-BUMP* from the top floor of my house as they hurl themselves off my bed and come flying down the stairs. Yet in summer, their elation quickly turns to sorrow as they’re faced with a blast of heat in their furry faces, and their favourite spots on the lawn are too hot to walk on, let alone loll in. So they slowly saunter over to my neighbour’s concrete, shady porch and flop themselves down and stare at me. They remind me of lions on the Serengeti, eyeing their prey and knowing they need to kill it, but are so parched and feverish that starvation seems like a less painful option than actually attempting to move about in the boiling heat. *bleep*
I read a survey last year that claimed 48% percent of Canadians declare summer to be their favourite season. Hmmm. Interesting. I would have guessed at least 75%, based on the sheer number of jubilant humans I am forced to endure every time it’s hot and sunny outside. So what’s happening, I suspect, is that there are more summer-haters out there than will openly admit to it. After all, it is a controversial stance to take, especially here in
where so many claim to hate winter (beautiful, clear, crisp, cool winter..how I yearn for thee!). Well, I’m not afraid to say it and I’m not afraid of annoying the summer-lovers (some are members of my own family, bless their cray-cray little hearts). Perhaps by openly expressing my hatred of this most unpleasant of seasons I will encourage the closet summer-haters to come out and be bitchy with me! It would be cold comfort (ha!) but better than none at all. In the meantime, I bitch alone. *BLEEP* Canada