I hate summer. Yeah … I said it. I hate summer. Spring, winter and fall? Love them, but I can’t stand the heat of summer.
I’m pretty sure I’ve written somewhere in the past about how I seem to get seasonal affective disorder, but in reverse … I relish the winter, and always seem to have the worst problems in the summer. It’s hot, I can’t sleep, and that causes my mood to start bouncing like a yo yo on an elastic string.
This year is no different; despite one really fabulous person that has been carrying me through the past couple of months, I’m finding that much of the time I still want to hide away and avoid everything.
The fact that things are going really sucky at work right now certainly isn’t helping this year’s funk, but it’s not really a good time to try to get out … companies still aren’t hiring due to fears about the economy further down the road.
So I wake up each morning, go to work, try not to go postal, come home and try to let myself escape into a mindless nothing state for a few hours … and no, I don’t mean Utah, since I’m already there.
The summertime roller coaster of constant highs and lows is really getting to be too much; I’d really like to see things climb and plateau for awhile before dipping back down into the valleys. But alas, it’s far easier said than done.