I come bearing grim news: summer is officially over. The untimely and unwelcome arrival of Labor Day has put the final nail in the coffin. Pools are closing, schools have opened, and days already grow shorter. I flipping hate this time of year. It comes way too soon and far too abruptly; I’m never, ever prepared for the punch to my heart.
I’ll trudge through the next months under a mountain of woolens and with a very tall stack of books. In preparation, I began stockpiling months ago and so far the titles include: Sweetbitter, The Portable Veblen from Elizabeth McKenzie, The Girl on the Train, of course, But What if We’re Wrong by Chuck Klosterman, Seven Brief Lessons in Physics by Carlo Rovelli, Elie Wiesel’s Night, A Man Called Ove, and there’s always the library. I will venture out for emergencies and a shortage of books certainly qualifies.
Mostly, though, I plan to hibernate until, oh, Easter. And there is an upside to this: I’ll lose my appetite for biking, which surprised me by roaring back so quickly. Yes, I’m hesitant and more than a little scared, but I intend to saddle up at least once more before the weather turns hostile and forbidding. Then I’ll have plenty of time to recover when the inevitable happens and I crash again. Oy.
So instead of wishing you a Happy Labor Day, I’ll offer my condolences on the tragic demise of summer. And caution you to hang on tight, because this train is headed straight into the treacherous and brutal grip of winter.
God have mercy on us all.
copyright © 2016 little ittys