As much as I enjoy being outdoors — and I do, very much so — as much as I love my big yard, all the flowers, the chance to be outside with short sleeved shirts and in bare feet . . .
I don’t do Summer.
Can’t take the heat, you see. I’m a happy camper when the temperatures are around the 70’s. A high of 75 is a perfect summer day to me. It’s hot, and I probably won’t want to do a lot outside, but I can BE outside, take a long walk, maybe work in the yard or go play somewhere. And then I can sleep at night, with the windows open and no covers on.
But yesterday, at 10pm, it was 86* F in my house.
I don’t have AC, can’t stand it and don’t wanna pay for it. My office has no AC either, but my car has it and I admit I love it in the car. Sometimes it’s the only thing that allows me to drive.
And sure, living here in the Pacific Northwet, our idea of summer is 2 months of occasionally hot weather. But let me tell you – for those two months, I’m a whiny, sweaty, crabby Biatch who’s getting NO sleep at night, hates squinting even with sunglasses on, and praying for rain constantly.
I just don’t DO summer. It’s hard to write when you’re sweaty, and it’s really irritating to have this new FANTASTIC novel you’re working on, and dying to be writing constantly, 24/7, only the heat is making you too grumpy and the sweat is making it hard to type and you’re not getting any sleep and it’s too hot to cook food and . . .
Did I mention I don’t much care for summer?
The good news is, I’m working on a new novel that’s got me so fired up, I’m writing even in the face of all this Summer going on all around me.