Throughout my life, I've stubbornly held on to the illusion that summer is a time of rest and relaxation. It's a sad day when you realize that you've been living a lie. The fact is ... Summer is the least relaxing season of the year. Not only do you have to keep the inside of your place liveable, it turns out there's all this shit that starts happening outside that you have to take care of too. Like a lawn, and trees, and bugs and peeling paint and all manner of other needy things. Plus, Ma Nature makes it so easy for you to work 18 hours a day because the sun never seems to set.
This summer, Jan and I are pouring a shit pot load of money into remodeling, which means that my anal retentive nature is going to take a major hit starting ... well, now. Crap is everywhere except where it's supposed to be, and not one nail has been driven yet.
So, one month for renovation and one month to put everything back together again. And then, summer will be almost gone.
If the truth were to be told, I haven't had a relaxing summer since I was 15 years old. Days filled with fresh mornings, golf, baseball, watching television, taking naps in the middle of the day and staying up past midnight every night of the week.
I certainly hoped I enjoyed it, because little did I know it would be the last one for a long, long time.
Well, there's a little daylight left. Guess I'd better go water the plants.