Part of me would like to have a few more Summer like days- plenty of Sunshine and Blue skies and in the evening I want to sit outside and look up an evening sky full of stars.
But that part is a stupid dork and I cannot wait for Summer to be over.
I hate the heat, the smoke from fires from God knows where and I hate being reminded that women my age need to be careful to not wear any sort of Summer clothing that will draw attention to ourselves because women in their 50’s are so offensive to the eye. That pretty much leaves us to wearing boxy oatmeal colored outfits and flip flops with – if you’re wild enough- little flowers on them somewhere.
I do enjoy the being in the Mountains or hiking with my dog who is only four years old so the world is pretty brand spanking new to him.
I love watching Hamish literally quiver with excitement when he sees ducks ( he loves watching them swim ) or finds food tossed in the bushes and the joy he has trying to find a way to let me near him so he can get it.
But for the most part when I look up and see that stupid flaming star of ours I want to spit.
I struggle with my hatred of Summer and everything it has to offer- I know it’s not a rational hatred.
On the other hand, people who are insanely attached to a Star that is destined to day burn the Earth to a crisp while slathered in sunscreen and not enough deodorant or too much perfume isn’t rational either, is it?
Daily Addictions Prompt: Wrangle