My uncle suffers from S.A.D. (seasonal affective disorder) where he experiences extra depression in the winter months. I believe I have the opposite. Summer months are awful and have been for years now. The heat and humidity are relentless. Fans are my friends as is water. Summertime exterminates coffee and I hate it for that. I hate it for the increased temperature and decreased clothing. I hate wearing what I wear. Shorts and non-plaid related items. Misery.
Summer means outdoor labor and tornados and hot nights and it makes blankets obsolete, and dammit, I like blankets. Summer makes me sweat which makes me self conscious which makes me sad which makes me hate summer all the more. I might not shake my fist at God, but I do shake it at summer. Summer is a bitch. Actually, summer probably isn't a woman at all. It's probably a guy. An annoying guy that insists on always being present when you don't want him there. Thus the humidity of course. It's always wrapping itself around you when you just want it to go the hell away. Summer walks into your house when you don't want it to. Yes, summer is a guy. Autumn is a deep, intellectual woman and winter is a passionate, impulsive woman and spring is a shy, book-worm woman.
Summer is a dude. And not a Matt Bomer or a Ryan Gosling. Summer is a Danny DeVito or a Steve Buscemi.
My room is a dungeon. I do not blame my mother for this fact, it just is what it is. There are spiders and bugs and all sorts of terrible shit that climbs in from outside and resides in my room. Truly, it is a dungeon with monsters and all. Recently they've been coming in through little cracks around my window which, on the outside of the house is a window well. I can see spiders and other bugs perched right outside and I hate it so much. It makes me feel like little Amelia Pond in Doctor Who who discovers a large crack on the wall of her room which turns out to be a tear in time and space. Now I just need the Mad Man in the blue box to come and take me away.
|The Doctor inspecting the crack|
I've never liked bugs, but I think I've been developing a minor phobia or something. Sometimes I think I feel them on me or I find myself watching the floor more carefully than I should. It's terrible. I taped a bunch of tin foil over the window area so they wouldn't come into my room, but now I can hear them moving or something against the foil. I slept three nights upstairs in the living room because of the little noises. It might just be the wind, but they have a hold of my brain. Ugh. I guess I need to get some Raid and spray the holes in my room to keep all the evil bastards out.
Anyways, I don't know what else I was planning to say here, but that about sums it up. Fuck summer. Yay. The end.