Thursday, July 8, 2010

You might as well just kill yourself now

This time of the year, I'm always haunted by something my grandfather often says: "You quit that whining before I give you something to whine about."

Meaning, you might as well get out your hobo gloves and snow shovels now, folks, 'cause summer's OVER.

After Fourth of July it's all down hill. This single phrase has given me more angst throughout my life than any string of words that have ever been thrown together to form a sentence. More than "Time for a pop quiz." More than "I know you are but what am I?" More than "Did you know that there are approximately 3,000 calories in a tablespoon of semen?" Even more than "We'll only be living with my parents for two weeks, Bridget."

Logically, this thinking doesn't make sense. Technically, summer literally just started. There are approximately two months of beach weather left. My family vacation is still weeks away. There is no need for alarm.

But already I can feel it. The Anxiety Spiral has begun.

I begin every morning by frantically flipping open my calendar and counting how many beach days are left before it will be too cold to walk around in a bikini. I record the times of sunrise and sunset every day because soon it will be coming ... The Darkness. The days are getting shorter already. Did you know that?! DID YOU?!!!???!111! As I drive in to run or work every day, I think about how horrible the drive is going to be once it's dark the entire way.

I also check the weather obsessively. I almost cried when I saw this weekend's forecast was filled with rain. BUT IT'S THE WEEKEND. IT'S MY BEACH TIME. WHYYYY, GAAAAH?! WHYYYYYYY????

I take this weekend's impending showers as a personal slight from the gods. Am I being punished? It is because I laughed when that little girl fell off her bike? Because I refused to make B a hamburger last night? Is it because I drink too much? It's the drinking, isn't it?

This year's anxiety is particularly strong. I blame that on the fact that I just came off what I consider to be The Winter of My Discontent. I was forced to move 400 miles away from the family and friends and city that I love. It was cold. It was dark. I felt very far away from civilization. I had no job. I had no money. I had no friends. And I was living with my in-laws. No offense, in-laws. LOVE YA! Blaah! Distraction! Blow jobs!

Now the thought of another winter is giving me hives. I'm in a good place right now, winter. Why gotta come all up in here and ruin that for me? I feel like I'm one of Pavlov's dogs. All you have to do is show me a picture of a car covered in snow and I feel nauseous. My chest starts to hurt and I get all twitchy. No. Do not want! Go away! Blow jobs!

I have compiled for you a list of things I would rather do than deal with winter:

  1. Wipe my butt with poison ivy.
  2. Go to the gynecologist.
  3. Write a thesis on the reproductive cycles of snakes.
  4. Flash a city bus.
  5. Contract food poisoning.
  6. Drink a bottle of maple syrup.
  7. Go to Morton's Steakhouse with Bill O'Reilly.
  8. Cry ... just cry.

So here I am, compulsively clicking the refresh button on the page, wondering if my weekend tan has faded at all since Monday evening, and stepping outside every few hours just so I can relish a few minutes of this glorious heat wave. It's all okay. Summer is here. Summer is now. Inhale. Exhale. Savasana. Savasanaaaa. Summer is here. Summer is now.


Becky Mochaface said...

You should move to Texas. It's still summer here in September and oftentimes it extends into October. And on the rare of occasions, it goes until November. IJS

Coach Vic said...

Are you trying to say you don't like autumn and winter?

Lora said...

I was just thinking this exact thing today. So sad.

Amanda said...

I could have written this entire post, except for the part about moving to New England, because I've been here the whole time.

rory said...

Oh goody, snow.
I'll never understand why ya'll live up there.

babs said...

yet another reference to the misery of living with the in laws.

i thought we were very nice - well, i was most of the time.

babs (the wicked mother-in-law)


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