Unpopular Opinion: I Wish Summer Would End Already

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.

 

Summer Activities We’re Super Excited For

It’s getting hot out there and to help us slip into the the “hashtag love summer hate everything else” mindset, we’ve decided to list all the things we’re most excited for this summer 2K19:

Pools

Road trips

Buying expensive sunscreen and forgetting it at home

Sunburns

Backyard barbecues

Watermelon

Playing cornhole

Getting eaten alive by mosquitos

The beach

Summer vacation Instagrams

Summer thirst trap Instagrams

Scrolling through Instagram for like three hours while you sit in the sun

Awkward bathing suit tan lines

Blisters from your new sandals

Trying to sell out-of-season clothing to Buffalo Exchange

Making $2 at Buffalo Exchange

Depression re-watching The Office

Sweating in your car

Sweating on the train

Being sweaty all the time

Chub rub

Rosé

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I’m Trying To No Longer Be A Tchotchke-Person

I come from a family of collectors. My father used to collect Elvis memorabilia when I was a kid, and I remember his whole office was full of it. My grandmother used to collect coffee cups and had a special display case for them. My mom liked to collect anything pirate-themed. My sister collected and still collects soaps. I seem to collect tchotchkes, and with them–dust and clutter.

It has been brought to my attention that some people may not know what the word tchotchke means, and to that I say “what?” Because apparently no one has heard of the Yiddish word for “trinket,” pronounced “chot-ch-kee.” Except these things are trinkets and also they’re less than that. They’re garbage art. They’re matches from cool restaurants and sparkly hair clips and hand-painted little trays and funny lighters and weird shit I’ve been given or found. I would say 1 in 7 of these objects are kept sentimentally and the rest seriously need to go into the trash. These trinkets also seem to be a great hiding place for hair ties, hair pins, dust, trash, and 4-year-old lip glosses.

My collection was keeping my room from being orderly, made labeling moving boxes practically impossible, and gave my best friend Andrew a heart attack every time he has ever had to look at my bedroom dresser. Luckily, I have recently gone through a series of moves both independently and with my family that have enabled me to throw away a lot of the junk I had accumulated (even some of the things I was sentimental about). I’m trying to keep it that way.

There is something so beautiful about a dresser with just a mirror, framed art, and maybe a candle or two as opposed to the 4 pens from Ping Pong in Chicago that I stole, my ex-boyfriend’s iPhone head phones, like 48 crystals of various colors and abilities, and some restaurant mints.

The best example that I can give you is from the iconic Mary Kate and Ashley film, New York Minute.

Ashley opens her closet to calming color-coded minimalism.

Mary Kate opens her closet to…this

I know this is a closet and not my dresser, but the Chex Mix bag and the bra and the umbrella say otherwise (items likely found on my dresser amidst a weird mini-porcelain doll from Solvang, a press pass from the Pizza Experience, and a snow globe that says “Virginia Is for Lovers”.

I’m not doing this for cleanliness, I’m doing this for minimalism. Moving fucking blows btw and I have had to do it 4 times this year, disregarding the countless trips I took independently where I had to haul my jewelry, skincare, and travel candle around the continental U.S. Having less stuff is just a life hack for an easier life if you’re on the move (which I am, all of the time apparently). No, you don’t need to fully “Marie Kondo” your place,  but I am saying having less shit on your dresser and shoved into drawers and on your nightstand could make yours and is making my room/house/life feel less stressful.

My tchotchkes all had an energy. That energy was crowding my life. I even threw away my ex boyfriend’s headphones. It probably had his ear wax in it (nasty) and one of the pods didn’t work anyway.

So I guess this is to say, please stop giving me things. If I tell you I want a souvenir from Seattle, please stop me unless it’s a sweatshirt or one of those Sleepless In Seattle pajama tops. I don’t need to keep restaurant matches unless I’m storing them in my purse (for emergency candle lighting). Don’t offer me gemstone coasters or a sparkly dish for my rings. Don’t give me a porcelain pony or a photo of Hillary Clinton. I am trying to declutter my life and embrace minimalism. I am trying not to be a tchotchke person.