Friday, July 22, 2011

Summer Stagnation

For the past few nights the heat wave has been the top story on network news. Anchors describe most of the nation trapped in a meteorological dome bearing down on us, raising temperatures to ungodly heights. Metaphorically speaking, I feel the same way, oppressed and sapped of energy. Summer is great when you're a kid: out of school with freedom to slack off for three months. For the rest of us, it may seem like a steady sinking into malaise, eager for fall to lift us out of our lethargy. The hot and humid days are long and draining. There's no mojo to get working.

Traffic slows, people drift off in mid-sentence, and everyone sweats their way through another day. I usually walk in the morning but even at 9 AM it's muggy. The beach beckons, but all I can think of are the latest studies that show most sunscreens don't protect you from evil UVA rays. I lost a friend this year to melanoma. Shark attacks are up. For me, that nixes the sand and surf. The neighborhood pool is teeming with splashing preschoolers and bored adolescents. Who wants to don a swimsuit in the midst of all those nubile teenage girls?

So I spend most of my time in my air-conditioned abode, flipping through magazines, while Netflix streams old episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I read, try to write, cross errands off my list. I wish I had a dynamic job pushing paper in some high rise on Peachtree Street. I drink lots of iced coffee. I'm still in re-entry mode from having done a play last month, immersed in the art, away from home. Sluggish in the suburbs, I trudge through the week, anxious for autumn leaves, pumpkins and football season. There's another reason I'm not fond of summer--it's the prelude to my birthday in September; I dread the impending hash mark of the calendar's cruel tally.

I guess the solution is to imagine all those January commercials enticing you to Cancun and Aruba while you shiver. Atlanta's six-inch snowfall early this year was no picnic. Come to think of it, that hibernation was as bad or worse than this sweltering summer. In the dreary gray winter I crave sunshine, suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder. Now we have solar overload. I'm counting the days till school starts, pouring myself another glass of sweet tea.