August and Everything After

For those of us who suffer from Reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, August is — for me — the emotional equivalent of February. Let’s see if I can describe it: You’ve been snowed in at the cabin for two months.  It’s still snowing and the sky is a uniform slate gray color.  You’re down to your last can of Spaghettio’s with Sliced Franks. You’ve developed a disturbing facial tic. All you can get on the shotty cable service is The Weather Channel and Mexican soap operas — the un-funny ones. The taxidermied moose head on the wall is beginning to talk to you1, and you have urges to clean your guns. You don’t own any guns. At night, the ice weasels come.2

Now, if I think about it, there are several nice things about August:

  • It’s not July.
  • The Fall issue of Interweave Knits (with a nice 20-point type face announcement on the cover about “Knits to Chase the Chill”).
  • Back-to-School sales. There’s nothing that gets my Office Supply Geek going like back-to-school sales, especially since I don’t have to worry about any of that back-to-school stuff. I also have that end-of-summer schadenfreude thing down pat. “Your summer vacation is over? The angels weep for you…”

Things are getting better all the time.

* * * * *
  1. Redrum! Redrum! []
  2. With a nod to Matt Groening’s Life in Hell for those ice weasels. []

2 Responses to “August and Everything After”

  1. Octopus Knits Says:

    I can see what you mean. Sometimes the heat really gets to me and I turn into an unproductive, unexcited slug. Ah, well.

  2. He-who-sinisterly-exaggerates-end-user-license-agreements Says:

    Residents – Sinister Exaggerator

    Your life is leaning downhill
    Sloping off the outer edge
    Your undetermined oyster beds
    Were found to be a hedge
    You caused the kids of Elmer Fudd
    To feed the farmer whose
    Cadaver’s filled with onion rings
    And feet are filled with glue

    Now sinister exaggerator
    What’s your claim to fame?
    Is still your favorite Ferlingetti
    Found in Auntie Maim?
    Your alter life is superceded
    Only from above
    Your heart is like a silken sponge
    That calls saliva love