Is it wrong for me to be counting down the days until fall when it’s not even officially summer yet?

I know that I’m supposed to be thankful in all circumstances, but I’m much more inclined to be grateful when I’m not walking into a furnace every time I go outside.

I’m not a hot weather person. I don’t mind summer as long as it’s mild and/or there’s a substantial body of water nearby, like a lake or an ocean.

I’ve made no secret about being a fall person. I love just about everything about Autumn, from the crisp weather and changing leaves to all the holidays that come with it, including pumpkin spice and apple cider and bonfires and hayrides.

I generally like summer for about two weeks, then I’m over the hot sweaty mugginess (and I do sweat profusely– I think it’s one of my spiritual gifts). Summer is like the unwelcome house guest that doesn’t know when to leave, despite all the subtle and not-so-subtle hint dropping.

All the things that made summer great for me as a kid don’t really apply to me anymore. I don’t get to leave my job for two months and take extended vacations or look forward to day after day with little to no plans and only my imagination to guide me.

The traffic’s slightly less horrendous, so there’s a small plus.

For me at my current stage in life, summer is all about wearing Hawaiian shirts as often as possible, finding out where the nearest a/c unit is, and staying hydrated.

I do like summer. Admittedly, I’d like it far better if I could feel wet sand between my toes and ocean waves lapping at my feet.

For the record, there are 130 days, 22 hours, and 27 minutes until the start of fall. Not that I’m counting.