Summer Flannelbane

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That is the awesome medieval fantasy name for summer, Summer Flannelbane. Summer is coming and it is going to be hot, really hot. Hotter than normal temperatures already abound. There has been very little rain here and we have had a wildfire twelve hours north of us for the past two weeks. G-Dub told the world climate change didn’t exist, but forgot to tell climate change. Oh, it does exist and it does not like being ignored.

I like summer, but I don’t love summer. Especially these roided up, bi-polar summers. Weather is extreme and thinks it is opposite day. If I had my way, leaves would bud and cherry blossoms would bloom and everything would be beautiful and then dead. Maybe a week or two of shorts and hoodie weather, but that is enough. I like my jeans, I like my flannel shirts, I like my dark beers and coffees. It is just hot everywhere in this air conditionless wonderland.

Except my car, it has air conditioning and it is cool and refreshing. However, I am hardly in it because there is no traffic as I am one of the few suckers not on vacation. This leaves only the briefest of air conditioned respites. Of course after I park my car somewhere it is a sauna until it fully cools down just as I am parking in front of my place.

Many of us could stay at work in the air conditioned bliss. Although that seems counter intuitive as we have been raised and bred to treat summer as the vacation and taking it easy season. Productivity will remain where it always has even though we may be there an extra twenty minutes.

Here is the crux, I simply don’t understand people that say “Such a beautiful day!” What is beautiful about thirty plus (celsius) weather . People stuck in buses like a can of salty, wet, lukewarm sardines. Speaking of sardines, spontaneous oral sex rates plummet through the floor. The same floor that people will stick to if they try to lay down and have regular sex. So those rates drop as well. Hell people can’t even hold hands without getting stuck together and bursting into flames. Ain’t nobody getting laid in this summer wonderland!

The sun beats down upon me with vendetta, like I killed its father. The wrath of a zillion nuclear bombs from very far way sears my skin in minutes each time I go outside. Luckily I don’t shed like a snake and I do tan a bit. Even the bald spot on my head. Still, I hate that moment when I realize that I have underestimated how long I was going to be outside and I know the burning has begun. I feel like I am going crazy.

People stink to high hell as their deodorant has been lain to waste before noon. Those seeking a refreshing rush and who truly don’t care what others think, rip off their tops and bury their faces in the sweat soaked armpit region. Honestly, when will it be socially acceptable for us to just wear a tube socks and shoelaces? Not just for the good looking fit people, but all of us. Well until the leaves turn have a great and clammy summer!

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