Sometimes I really hate August.
Maybe even more than March.
August sucks for so many reasons. There’s that whole “summer’s ending” thing, which rots, since it only just begun and I haven’t done any of the things I planned on doing this summer, such as moving all my stuff into Computer Room #2 or planting an herb garden or flinging my lovely round naked body into a jet black lake at midnight and feel the water swell up around me like liquid silk whilst the frogs chirped and the northern lights pulsed above me–
Um, anyway…
For whatever reason, my internal clock somehow picks up on the fact that it’s this time I will call AlmostFall. The newspaper circulars all start showing homewares and I get the urge to begin knitting large all-natural afghans or what have you. It’s this weird nesting instinct that I believe is spurred on by the smell of newly sharpened pencils and stiff creased denim. The damn leaves haven’t even turned yet, and I’m getting the urge to start going to craft shows, bake pumpkin muffins, and eat hearty meaty meals with homemade biscuits. I’m feeling drawn to dark colors, heavy fabrics, solid well-soled shoes.
It’s sickening. I should be drinking Summer Hummers and chilled Cosmopolitans while lounging in the backyard. I should be living the life of the grasshopper, not the damn ant!
I think it’s the sound of cicadas. That’s what’s doing it.
Anyway, I’m having this weird urge to do indoor activities, like genealogy and scrapbooking and quilting. I found myself buying ingrediants to bake cookies yesterday. People, it’s 85 degrees outside… that’s not going to happen. I was tearing up Esteban’s office, looking for my original Sims disk so I could reload it. I only play computer games during the winter. It’s all a sign.
Another reason I hate August: allergies. August sucks for allergies. Esteban and I have opposite allergies for the most part of the year, but during August, we’re a sniffling, snorking pair. 65% of all asthma cases are diagnosed in August (including my own).
Right now, I have a sinus headache that could take down a bull moose. My nose is so stuffed up that I tried blowing it earlier and nothing happened, but then my nose made strange noises afterward, little squeaks and pops and chirps. I think it was talking to me.
I’m going to take a bunch of drugs. I’ll see you guys later.
