Monday, August 30, 2010

Dear August

Dear August,

I hate to break this to you. But you're my least favorite month of the year.

Most months fly by. But not you. You drag on and on and on and on and on and on and well you get the idea.

It’s the end of the summer. I’m ready for boots, hot tea, college football, baseball playoffs, new TV. I could go on.

Not to mention that it’s effin hot outside. I mean there’s a reason why the longest sanctioned bicycle ride in the country that takes place during this particular time of year is called Hotter'N Hell. Am I right?

We had 3 and a half weeks over 100 degrees this summer. 3. And. A. Half. Weeks. With the thermometer reaching 107 on what was the hottest day.

Our cabinet project has stagnated a bit thanks to the heat. DH nixed working on it the day it reached 107. I guess I can’t blame him. Really I was hoping he’d say no so I wouldn’t feel so guilty for not wanting to do it.

I know last week you brought us a wee little cold front, and we actually had more reasonable temperatures. I liked running again instead of mentally asking myself if I was crazy to run in the heat and humidity that is also known as August. For that I'm grateful. But only a little given the preceding 3 and a half weeks of 100 plus temperatures.

As much as I gripe, it takes getting through this hell of a month for me to feel like I earned the fun and cooler temperatures of fall.

So it is with respect August, that I help you pack your bags and push you out the door until next year. You have most definitely over stayed your welcome. I hope you don't mind that I won't be shedding any tears to see the back of you. Instead, I'll be warmly welcoming September as soon as you're gone with some 7-layer dip and beer while we watch football and baseball.

Until we're forced to meet again next year,
Becky Mochaface

P.S. September - if you know what's good for you, you won't let the thermometer get above 100.

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