You know how I know it’s summer?
Because of the extra people. Every day I have at least two (sometimes three or four) extra people following me around. Demanding that I not only keep the whole cooking and cleaning shindig under control, but also that I instantly be able to produce ‘fun’ at the drop of a hat. It starts in the morning, before they are even fully conscious. They’ll crack one eye open, hunt me down, and in voices laden with expectation ask “What are we going to do today???”
Because of the extra food. All the extra people around here consume lots of extra food. When they are in school all day, they can’t drink an entire gallon of orange juice on the sly, before I even get a chance to use a drop of it to make my daily smoothie.
Because it’s hot. Thus begins my daily dance to avoid running the air conditioner. See, we’re those crazy people that don’t have central air. Old home and all that jazz. We do have a massive window unit, for which I’m very grateful when the temps climb above 90. I have a love/hate relationship with it though. I do love to be cool and comfortable. But it’s loud, and silence is more precious than gold to me. I love fresh breezy air, and it pushes out mass quantities very cold, but ‘canned’ smelling air. Also, the very second I turn the thing on, I’m pretty sure I can hear the electric meter laughing at me.
Because of the laundry. All the extra laundry. You would think in a season where one wears LESS clothing than any other, I would have less laundry. This is not the case. One of these extra little people running around has a problem with wanting to wear 14 outfits in one day (interspersed with periods of complete nakedness). Add to that the beach towels and swim suits and blankets for sitting on outside, and the mountain of laundry gets a notation on topographical maps.
Because of the itchiness. I’m super popular in the summertime. It’s a little known fact. Popular with the bugs. They love me. And I tend to get weird rashes, hives, and reactions anyway, so the heat just does lovely things with that. Currently, I have something on my arm that looks like the ursa minor, and a new bite (or hive, or otherwise curious small itchy patch) appears about every hour. At this rate, I’ll be able to teach an astronomy course on my arm by the end of the week.