Recently it occurred to me that I hate summer. Maybe it’s global warming, finicky old age, or a drastic alteration in my personal wardrobe, but what once were the joys of the season are now just a string of nearly intolerable annoyances.
I recall the summers of my youth with longing. Summers meant freedom, sleeveless shirts, tank tops, short shorts, beaches, tanning, no homework, and long days outdoors with friends.
Funny, how we never seemed to mind the heat or the humidity, though few of us lived with air conditioning.
But the summer of 2024 has made it very clear that I no longer wish to combat the effects of extreme heat and humidity, despite promises from Dr. Shannon Klingman and her full-body deodorant.
Besides experiencing a constant sense of personal mildew, I now find hot weather conducive to serial napping. As a result, the pattern of my day closely resembles that of a vampire. I prefer to go outdoors only after sunset, and retreat to my air-conditioned “coffin” shortly after sunrise.
I’ve concluded that my skin no longer wants a tan. I concede that the sun isn’t my friend and presents a clear and present danger.
At the very least, the appearance of more wrinkles and dark spots. If one spends time outdoors constant applications of sunscreen are prudent.
There’s nothing like a combination of SPF 55 and sweat to appreciate the sensation of being smothered. And I don’t recall including that experience on my bucket list!
Regarding hot weather clothing, I do believe there’s an expiration date for women to wear tank tops. And look good in them. Same for strappy sun dresses, short-shorts, tube tops, and anything with sleeves that don’t reach the elbows.
Each year it becomes more difficult to leave one’s abode and be cool when you no longer care to bear arms. To say nothing of knees. Bathing suits are a topic for a whole other essay!
And, oh, the bugs of summer! I have no issue with insects who remain outdoors. But when they enter my domain, they become fair game.
When temperatures reach the nineties even bugs will seek air-conditioning. So, summer means stocking up on retaliatory sprays to eliminate flying, crawling, and biting critters who dare to cross my threshold.
But the insects that perplex me most are those tiny little winged creatures who are attracted to my iPad when I read in bed before sleep. These myopic little Kindle bugs land on the screen as if they want to read along with me but need to be right on top of the printed word.
I thought they were punctuation marks, but I questioned why someone would put an exclamation point in the middle of a sentence. I wave them off, but they return.
Apparently, we have the same taste in literature.
Finally, there are the allergens. As a child, I never suffered from hay fever. But at some point during middle-age, I became unable to leave home without tissues and Flonase.
Once, I knew nothing of grass pollen, fungus spores, or mold, all of which thrive during the summer. Now, they’re three more reasons to remain indoors.
So, while I sit in my air-conditioned woman cave, and long for September, I’m also grateful that I’ve been alive for all the summers that have been. And I look forward to kvetching my way through many more summers to come.
