It’s official: I am addicted to you.
I mean, I hate that our Founding Fathers built my current home in a swamp, because when you roll around this swampy city can be pretty unbearably hot and muggy. And I hate the mosquitos you bring with you, and the way that sweat runs down my neck when I am waiting for the metro. And I hate what your humidity does to my hair, and how my hands constantly feel sticky.
But I am pretty close to forgetting all that because I just can’t get enough of you.
I love your long days, where the evenings get just cool enough for us to stroll to the Capitol and find it empty because the tourists can’t find anywhere to stay this close to the Mall.
I love how we have taken to escaping to the beach on the weekends. I love that gentle swish of the waves on the sand and the bright blue sky that you spread out over us. I love the way that the light filters through the trees and I love the lazy pace of long days where the only objective is to take you in through every pore. I love the freckles that are covering my arms and face despite my hat and sunscreen.
I love the free movies in parks all across the city, the special exhibits at the museums, the markets, and the festivals. I love having time to explore more in this city. The other day I realized that summer is halfway over, and I panicked because I am absolutely not ready to start thinking about going back to school.
I love that four-day weekend that James had last week, the one where we got to have a lazy, sleep-till-noon day on Friday in between a fun day in the city on Thursday and a peaceful escape to the beach on Saturday, and then still have Sunday to head up to Annapolis and enjoy ice cream along the water after a fast summer storm.
I love that you bring long weekends with you, and August recess, so that I can have him home more. Summer and that man are basically the best combination I can imagine. I’m a little addicted to him too I guess.
So Summer, I’m a little obsessed with you. Don’t go anywhere soon ok?
PS: James does not love you when you sunburn his feet so bad that wearing shoes is difficult. Although, you and I both know that that has less to do with you and more to do with his haphazard sunscreen application.
You can have the rest of my summer, I don’t want it.
Deal (though one I have no clue why you would want to make). In return, I shall generously give you Feb and March.
So fun! Also, you have perfectly captured DC humidity with your description. 🙂
It is basically like living in a running dishwasher. : )
Pingback: Bottle this up. | The Art in Life
Pingback: Beach reading. | The Art in Life
Pingback: The last of summer. | The Art in Life