Stranglehold

Summer does nothing for me. Most people I know can't wait for summer. The long days, warm nights. Beach weather, shorts and flip-flops. Driving around with the convertible top down. I prefer not to leave the house from July 1 through Labor Day. Maybe it's the heat, the days where the atmosphere is so poisonous you can barely breathe. Maybe it's the fact I hate wearing shorts and would rather live year-round in my favorite pair of jeans. Maybe it's because I grew up in a house with no AC and vividly remember being so hot I thought my face was going to melt off like the guy at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Whatever it is, I stagnate in summer. It's like all my creative energy is inversely proportionate to the temperature. This has left me sitting on several story lines which is irritating at best. I have ideas, I go to write, and nothing comes out. While this allowed me to catch up on more TV than I should be watching in any given day, it's not what a want to be doing. So I wait and ponder the practicality of a move to Antarctica. October can't come soon enough.