A friend and I were talking about summer the other day. My friend absolutely adores summer, all hundred-and-eleventy-billion degrees of it. But last week, she admitted to me that this summer she has grown to hate it. She cannot wait for the Fall, her previously least favorite season. I'd like to think that I rubbed off on her a little since Fall is my favorite season and I've always tried to sing its praises to her. Or maybe, just maybe, this summer has made everyone HATE summer. How can a person like a season that forces them to the indoors and they don't even get to experience the long late hours of the day without swatting away mosquitos and seeing their baby grow ever more red-faced and their husband ever more sweat-faced? It's disgusting.
Anyway, I've decided that I have summer related depression. Since returning from Oregon, I'm just tired of staying inside in the stale AC air. I feel trapped and bored and I want to have an evening al fresco picnic without choking on the humidity for once in my summer-life. I'm feeling terribly in need of leaving this swamp of a DC. So. Working on that.