The dog days

As I was sitting outside one recent day, sweat dripping down my forehead and soaking my shirt, the revelation hit me all at once: I don't like summer all that much. I realize that living in Wisconsin, where overall we have precious little hot weather, this statement may seem blasphemous, so let me explain. It's really this part of summer, the dog days, that I don't enjoy.

This summer, in particular, has been chalk-full of all the things I hate about the season. For the past month, we have been locked in this terrible pattern of sweltering weather, followed by storms, followed by more sweltering weather. All of this a breeding ground for mosquitoes and frizzy hair. After all this rain we've had, I keep forgetting that our favorite parks, too, will be waterlogged and arrive to find sopping-wet slides and small lakes in the sandboxes.

I simply cannot abide these days in which it's so hot or, more to the point, humid, that it's extremely uncomfortable to be outside for more than an hour. Yes, I could go inside, but there's a little someone here who would spend the entire day outside if he could (and rightly so, that's where all kids should be in the summer, no?). Guess who usually wins this battle? Inside - there's another one of my gripes. I find it so jarring the contrast between the hot, sticky outdoor air and the refrigerated feeling of stepping into an air-conditioned space. I hate all those excessively cooled restaurants, stores and movie theaters so common in summertime.

I guess it comes down to me and my perpetual state of always wanting what I don't have. In February, I sit and dream of days like today when I can just open the backdoor and let the boys out to play. So today I'm dreaming of sunny, mild days. Mid-70s, no rain. Is that too much to ask?