Doggone Days of Summer

The exuberance and anticipation of summer that steals over me in April begins to wind down a bit in August. Light tee shirts, sandals, and shorts start to lose their appeal and yes, even get annoying after 14 weeks of solid heat. The smell of suntan lotion that was so refreshing in June gags me two weeks before Labor Day. My air conditioner, which provided such cool, comfortable air in June and July, is now sending up white flags of surrender. It’s time for autumn!

How does one describe a NJ summer? The three H’s (hazy, hot and humid) are apt but they don’t really draw a clear enough picture. How about phrases like, “marinating in my own sweat,” “heat rash,” and “I hate everyone”? It seems like everything is sweating! My family, my coworkers and even my refrigerator. I mean, we live in Ewing. New Jersey. The continental U.S. of A.! We are not on top of the Equator, after all. Summers lately have left me limp as a soggy noodle with pores permanently clogged with baby powder. I have taken to wearing a bathing suit around the house because I can’t stand more than one layer of clothing on my slippery skin.

I yearn for crisp, breezy October evenings with the smell of wood smoke in the air. Instead, we have tropical, still summer nights with the smell of moldering earth, towels, and carpets. Mushrooms grow rampantly on my formerly green lawn. Weirdly shaped and colored fungi appear at bases of trees and my potted New Guinea Impatiens shoot me a dirty look as I stagger past them into the house to change into my bathing suit.

It is unfortunate that my inner thermostat has always run a bit higher than my family’s. It is more unfortunate that, due to my gender and my current age, the same thermostat has changed its settings this summer and is recording record highs. My personal dew point has been 237 since May. My humidity number almost matches my annual salary, and I am only truly comfortable when I am immersed in cool water up to my ear lobes.

I want to shovel snow. I want to lie against the bathtub like our dog used to do. I want to whip down a snow-covered mountain with the bracing air freezing my face off, preferably on skis. I want it to be so cold that the hair inside my nostrils ices up. I want the ice cream man to put his truck up on blocks for another winter because I swear, if I hear the tinkling rendition of “It’s A Small World” one more time, things will get ugly.

There are a few things that I’ll miss about the summer. I’ll miss my swim club buddies, who I look forward to seeing every weekend and who are all like family. I’ll miss having a tan so that I don’t have to wear makeup or stockings. I’ll miss the college kids who flock home for the summer and hang out at our house. I’ll miss the delicious fresh fruit and vegetables that NJ provides us in the summer. I’ll miss being barefoot 99% of the time. But I won’t miss the 3 H’s that make me long for a blizzard.