I consider September 1st to be the official end of summer. The sun might be out, the weather's still warm, but people have to start getting ready to go back to school and work.
Most people finally stop summering in September.
For me, summer is both a noun and a verb. When I say people summer, I mean that they try to cram as much summer related activity no matter how uncomfortable it all is.
Because of the pandemic, some people couldn't summer last year. This year, they freaking summered. They summered the hell out of summer.
COVID-19 numbers are up. No one is saying it, but it's likely they're up because, well, people had to summer.
Summering hurts me. Summering dehydrates me, burns my flesh, makes me sweaty and gross, and it gets me into trouble.
Not summering makes me look like a bad person. That's why I summered as hard as I could in August. It cost me my glasses and almost cost me my life in Florida.
I'm all summered out. So are other people.
This summer has been particularly rough. "Florida hot" is a term I've heard a lot to describe this year's summer in Massachusetts.
Florida hot is not good, but that was the kind of heat we experienced. Along with storms, hurricane warnings and other events that do nothing to cool us down.
For the first time ever, the weather in Boston reminded me of the weather in American Samoa, where the rain seemed to fall as hard as rocks and only produced steam from the asphalt.
People started shutting down these last two weeks. No more trying to cram a year's worth of activity in three months. They've had it.
Sadly, we're probably going to see more summers like this one in the future. Maybe summer will finally lose all its romantic luster. It will be sad, but it could mean less self-abuse in the future.
Just give me a couple of months where I can feel a cool breeze on my face. I'm done with summering.
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