Summer is less fun when you’re an adult. You’re supposed to ~relax~ but you don’t get a two month break to go make lanyards at sleep away camp or swim all day and eat popsicles, wrapped in wet towel, slowly soaking pool water into your living room carpet.
It’s kind of bullshit.
At best, you organize weekend trips with your friends that will bankrupt you, figure out a reasonable amount of PTO and WFH days to finagle into some sort of obligatory family trip you have to check your email from no matter what, get sun burns on rooftops because you’re too drunk to reapply sunscreen AND order multiple “cute” swimsuits from online that you will try on and return no less than three times.
This all while working 40+ hours a week and sweating profusely everywhere, all the time.
It’s August and while we’re admittedly in the decline of summer, I personally can’t wait for it to mercifully end.
Summer feels like it started in May. I can’t pinpoint an exact day but suddenly it was 100 degrees and I was wearing all white outfits and carrying straw bags and sunglasses from brunches to the beach. I had 47 margaritas in June alone and was sunburned 90% of July.
I’m so tired. I just want to wear a sweater and drink a dirty chai oat milk latte on a chilly morning in peace.
I’m so over #lovesummerhateverythingelse that I don’t want to catch so much as a whiff of coconut-y sunscreen or a lick of watermelon Chazstick (my preferred summer lip balm from Dedcool) until 2020.
It just seems easier to live my life not in summer mode. There’s less pressure to have fun, there’s no panicking about losing beach time, I don’t feel as obligated to eat salad and I don’t have to freak out about my life again until late November (Thanksgiving is a different kettle of fish).
I’m not saying I need piles of leaves and pumpkin patches (although HMU in October for all your fall festivities), all I’m asking for is the ability to at least think about enjoying a bowl of soup on my lunch break without getting heat stroke. And also maybe to find a nice flannel at a reasonable price to wear on weekends.
Labor day is only two weeks away and I know you bitches on your beach vacations will be crying over the side of your yachts once this hot girl summer officially comes to an end.
But I have an inbox full of pumpkin spice pitches and it’s making me want to retire my flip flops and put lotion on these sand-scuffed feet, slip on my fuzziest socks and work from home.
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