It occurred to me the other day, as I gratefully entered an air-conditioned space, that I hate summer. Maybe it’s global warming, or my finicky old age, or a drastic alteration in my personal wardrobe, but what used to be the joys of the season are now just a string of nearly intolerable annoyances.
I’m not a big fan of nostalgia either, but I do recall the summers of my youth with a certain longing. Back then, summers meant freedom, sleeveless shirts, tank tops, short shorts, loving the beach, getting a tan, no homework, and long days to spend outdoors with friends. Funny, how we never seemed to mind the heat or the humidity, even though few of us lived with air conditioning.
But the summer of 2024, which has been unusually hot, by the way, has made it very clear that I no longer wish to combat the effects of extreme heat and humidity, despite the promises of the world’s most annoying ob/gyn, Dr. Shannon Klingman, and her full-body deodorant. Besides experiencing a constant sense of personal mildew, I now find hot weather conducive to serial napping. As a result, the pattern of my day closely resembles that of a vampire. Except for walking the dog, I prefer to go outdoors only after the sun goes down, and retreat to my air-conditioned “coffin” shortly after sunrise.
I’ve also concluded that my skin no longer wants a tan. At this point of my life I concede that the sun is not my friend, and in fact, presents a clear and present danger. At the very least, the appearance of more wrinkles and dark spots. If one spends time outdoors in the good old summertime, constant applications of sunscreen are prudent. And there’s nothing like a combination of SPF 55 and sweat to appreciate the sensation of being smothered. And I don’t recall putting that experience on my bucket list!
Regarding hot weather clothing, I do believe there is an expiration date for women to wear tank tops. And actually, look good in them. I’m not proposing a specific cut-off age, but to quote the late, great Nora Ephron, it’s around the time when one’s cleavage starts to resemble a peach pit. And so it goes with the strappy little sun dresses, the short-shorts, the tube tops, and anything with sleeves that do not reach the elbows. Each year it becomes more difficult to leave one’s abode and be cool (in both meanings of the word) when you no longer care to bare arms. To say nothing of knees. Bathing suits are a topic for a whole other essay!
And, oh, the bugs of summer! I have no issue with insects who remain in their natural habitat. But when they enter my domain, they become fair game. I understand that when temperatures reach the nineties even bugs will seek air-conditioning. So, summer means stocking up on an arsenal of retaliatory sprays to eliminate flying, crawling, and biting critters who have dared to cross my threshold. But the insects that perplex me most are those tiny little winged creatures who are attracted to my Kindle when I try to read in bed at night. Never visible during the day when they would be fair game for my bug spray, these myopic little bugs land on the screen as if they want to read along with me, but apparently need to be right on top of the printed word. At first, I thought they were punctuation marks, but I questioned why someone would put an exclamation point in the middle of a sentence. I wave them off, but they return. Apparently, we have the same taste in literature.
And finally, there are the allergens. As a child, I never suffered from hay fever or any similar type of upper respiratory irritation. But at some time during middle-age, I became unable to leave home without a box of tissues and some Flonase. As a kid, I had no knowledge of grass pollen, fungus spores, or mold, all of which thrive during the summer. Now, they are three more reasons to remain indoors.
Did you know that there is actually a condition called Aestophobia? It is fear of hot weather. I discovered this when I went on-line seeking a support group for like-minded people who hated summer. I’m happy to say that my personal seasonal affective disorder is not sufficiently severe that I must seek psychological counseling, but also that I’m not alone in wishing we could skip from spring to fall.
So, while I sit in my air-conditioned woman cave, and long for September, I’m also grateful that I’ve been alive for all the summers that have come and gone. And I look forward to kvetching my way through many more summers that have yet to be.
Oh, my! You covered the majority of my current thoughts. (But, no mention of Christina..AGAIN..selling new showers! OMG.)
I also recall the summers of my youth..being able to wear WHITE SHORT SHORTS and sundresses. We only had a large, noisy fan… my sister and I would have to share it.
Summer meant freedom..until I got old enough to get a babysitting job.
So many SUMMER songs to choose from..but I am old enough to remember “Summer in the City” and I swear, although I lived in the rural boondocks, it still takes me back .
I grew up in COLD CLIMATE and figured there was ICE in my bones..thus I soaked up sunshine like a reptile. Now, I avoid it as much as possible..even sunscreen irritates the old complexion.
I do love the Peach Pit reference! YES. Does this mean that Jane woman selling Crepe Erase potions is lying? It is so hot here that sleeveless is just a nasty necessity. No one notices old ladies anyhow.
The worst bugs here are the Red Fire Ants and the No See’Ums. Pure evil.
We go through Kleenex in our house at an absurd rate. At least, boxes of Kirkland brand from Costco is reasonable enough. I figure our air is just not healthy anywhere.
My latest rescue dog is a terrible walker but the heat subdues even him…does that count as a “good thing”?
THANK GOODNESS FOR AIR CONDITIONING!!!!!