Humidity: A passable excuse for donning and doffing multiple outfits on the same day.
The Song of the Summer: Not sure, not sure. How does it go? Hum it for me?
Flying Ants: Houseguests! Awesome.
The Water Table: So low.
Music in the Park: A heroic distraction from constant mosquito harassment.
Brewskis: Aw, twist my arm....
Black Athletic Socks, Possibly With Sandals: Given how deathless this trend seems to be—and it’s at least a decade old—maybe it’s the perpetrators who are right, and we who are wrong. What do they know that we don’t know?
Hardy, Bearded Types With Backpacks Walking or Hanging Out Along Highways, But Not Quite Hitchhiking, Merely Traveling, Perhaps: They’ve totally got the right idea.
Popsicles: No thanks.
Iced Coffee: Eventually, sure.
Local Library AC: Fantastic. You could warehouse frozen steaks in my local library, it’s that frosty.
Public Ass-Fondling Between Couples as a Matter of Habit or the Semi-Conscious Staking of Relationship Territory: A continuing pandemic.
Summer Television: I don’t have cable.
Sudden Rain: Oh, thank God: an excuse not to envy everyone already outside who doesn’t have to work today.
Not Being Invited to Cookouts: Demoralizing yet something of a relief, because you don’t have to lie about why you won’t show up.
The Traumatizing Realization that this Summer is Dangerously Close to Not Being Fun, Carefree, Exciting, or Fulfilling in the Ways that Media Insists That It Must Be: Eh. But every summer’s like that, you know?
Water: Refreshing, life-giving, kinda played out.