Summer has been held back in my mind by the encroachment of hay fever on its territory. It came in like a marauding bastard to piss about with the season of sunshine’s shitty little hill* and make what should be brilliant rubbish.
As a result I grew embittered towards summer. I began to get annoyed with it. Snap at it. Be cranky in its general direction. It wasn’t genuine dislike, it was just guilt by association. And I was unfair towards it – I knew I was – but I didn’t let the season off the hook.
But now, thanks to that that I gone done pointed out earlier about the fever of hay not hitting as hard (so far), I think I might be warming HA HA HA to the idea of the summer. This year I might be able to enjoy it for what it is.
And I’m already thinking clearer on the matter, before the season has even hit. Why’s that? Well, because I like my shorts and I’ve been rocking them for the last few days. And as we all know, rocking shorts makes you and everything you do awesome. Mine make it even awesomer. Why’s that that? Because I look like a 17-year-old in 1996, naturally.
Through the combination of less horrible allergyness, rockin’ rock shorts from the past (I’m 28) and the decision I made earlier to go to the beach more this year (I’ll fail at that one), summer might just get itself a higher billing in my mindtank.
*I have Falling Down on the brain.