heather vs. summer

It's time for me to get something off my chest that I've been bottling up for over 20 years (that's right - years!). Are you ready for this? Here it is: Summer is my least favorite season. 

While you let that sink in, I think I'll unload A Few (more) Of My Least Favorite Things that everyone else seems to love (I recommend reading this list out loud to the tune of this song):

• children
• Tom Cruise
• bacon
• leather pants
• going to the gym before work
• going to the gym after work
• small dogs
• The World Cup
• white sunglasses
• ginger-flavored-anything
• Taylor Swift
• voicemails

Phew. I feel so much better. Don't you? 

Lately, I've been spending a disturbing amount of time pretending to be excited about warm weather. People are straight up giddy about it (and I don't use that word lightly). When it gets to that inevitable, awkward point in the conversation when I'm supposed to chime in about how 85-degree weather makes me want to dance on the nearest tabletop, I usually just smile and run away. 

What can I say? Hot weather has never done it for me.

Being a native-Californian, this might surprise you (but maybe you're forgetting the part where I moved to Oregon? That decision was based on more than just my love for recycling and sautéed kale). 

I think the worst day of my entire life happened when I was 8 years old - at the time, my family lived in central California and mid-July was no f-ing joke. It was 128 degrees outside (ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT) and in a desperate attempt to keep my brother and I from swan diving off the roof of our house, my mom took us to Baskin Robbins to cool down. I strategically went with Mint Chocolate Chip (over my usual Prailines & Cream) because everyone knows that mint ice cream is always (mysteriously) colder than the other flavors. I really thought I had Summer outsmarted with that move, but nevertheless, our scoops melted roughly 0.12 seconds after we stepped outside. I think all three of us cried right there in the parking lot. It was just. too. hot. 

Fourteen years later, I'm still traumatized - and New York isn't exactly helping me out. 

Nothing gives me nightmares quite like the thought of NYC in the summertime. Dry California heat was one thing, but 90% humidity is an entirely different beast. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what 90% humidity even feels like. Why do people go outside? How can anyone stand to constantly be sweaty and sticky and wet? How many showers should I plan on taking every day? How am I supposed to get to work in the morning - after a hot, smelly subway ride - without looking like I spent the last 45 minutes in a sauna? I have so many questions. 

Summer and I will never be friends. I don't even like wearing shorts! If I had it my way, life would be a perpetual 55 degrees with a nice afternoon thunderstorm. Wouldn't you pick a pumpkin-spiced latte over a lemonade? Come on. I can't be the only one who would rather wear a scarf  than a sundress (can I?).

October really can't get here fast enough.