Well, it's here. My very least-favorite time of year. Worse than those crushing, depressing days between New Year's Day and Easter when the snow's turned black and the temperature has dropped and all the TV shows are reruns but no one will venture out and there's nothing to look forward to is this, the psychological final week of summer, culminating in the abysmally depressing Labor Day Weekend, when it seems as though everything's at an end, leaving only a void in its wake.
I hate this week. It conjures up the ghosts of childhood, when this was Back to School time, and your mother dragged you away from the pool and your books and into the mall, the hair salon and all of those other places only adults like. Weather-wise, things begin to turn about now. Around here, it happened last weekend. I knew the second I woke up last Saturday that summer was drawing to a close. From now on, you'd want to keep a sweatshirt in your car, you'd want to dig your sturdy jeans out from under all those flimsy tank tops, and you'd want to make sure there was a second blanket on the bed. For the rest of the week, it hovered around 90% humidity, with the temperatures in the sixties, making it chilly and oppressive at the same time.
And everything will end soon. Amusement parks and other summer businesses will close, and other places (including the one I work at) will switch to reduced fall hours. Eight years ago this week, I had my first kiss with the ex I wrote about last month. Seven years ago this week, he left me. Three years ago, the professor I wrote about (who inspired me to stop wasting my time on bad books) was killed in a car crash around this time of year. September 11th is a date that will live in infamy for many in my own generation. Even without all of that, I'm convinced that no one actually likes Labor Day.
So let me ask you all, what do you do in order to get through this time of year? Personally, I wish I could just go to sleep right now and wake up in two weeks. And believe it or not, I actually had a GOOD weekend this week...imagine if my trip to see the BF had not gone well.