Around the horn

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It’s 88 degrees outside, and I can hear the freeway from this upstairs room, cars speeding through the inky hot night. It will be 101 degrees today, and as my daughter said last night, the heat feels oppressive and strange and scary. “I almost wish I were in school,” she said, “because summer feels weird and bad.” That was always how I felt about summer, too, at her age. I didn’t have enough to do, and my neurotic brain took over and drove me crazy. The heat was stifling and lonely.

I assumed I was the only person who felt this way about summer, which was naive. There's no way to be the only person on this planet who does or feels anything, is there? And yet since we're all unique and special starfish, the opposite must also be true. As usual I have not taken the time to develop these theories in any serious detail, so I'll just stuff them in the same box as "literally everything is easier said than done," which also sounds right but is equally unproven.

My standard summer sad issues (flashback 2015 or any other year) have not been aided by these days of sloth and unemployment. Every year I try to steel myself against it, but this weather is so demanding! So pleased with itself, so 5:27-a.m.-to-8:26-p.m.-in-your-face nosy. Take a break already! Nobody needs that much daylight. The only good thing about summer is not wearing socks, and if it comes down to a choice between July and socks, believe me I'll take the socks.