Top Ten Reasons I Hate Summer

Summer is rapidly approaching. Summer just happens to be my least-favorite season.

Why is that?

I have written a list for you.


1. Stuff Melting

Butter turns into this unattractive, squat, bright yellow glob.

Ice cubes are virtually useless as they disappear before they can make your drink cold – normally, I don’t even use ice cubes to make my beverages cold but during the summer they could actually be helpful if fit weren’t for the fact that they, you know, melt?

Ice cream is just exhausting. You have to constantly be licking all the escaping trickles or your hands will get all sticky like that five-year-old girl’s at the carnival, not to mention that you know your face will end up looking like hers no matter what you do.

Plus, I kind of feel like Im melting.

2. I Almost Never Leave The House

My schedule comes grinding to a halt during the summer. Everything just stops.

As an introvert, I can’t say that I wouldn’t prefer to stay confined to the house all year long. It makes me feel safe. Venturing out of the house is scary. So I don’t exactly miss any of the activities.

At first, it’s refreshing. But after a while? Even my reclusive self has to admit that it gets kind of boring.

3. The Day Drags On Forever

I think we can all agree that summer days are at least 90% longer than regular days.

Daylight Savings and all that?

4. You’re Finally Free And It Looks So Nice Outside So You Feel Like You Should Do Something…

…But it’s so hot that you don’t feel like moving so you hide in the basement all summer instead.

And turn pasty white from lack of sunlight. Ew.

5. My Brain Hurts From Reading Too Many Books

I never get sick of reading. Never.

I love reading! Nothing, and nobody, gets in between Me and My Books. Got that?

Except summer.

Summer is the only time when I actually – sometimes – stop reading books. Only for a week or something, but still. This is a big deal.


6. You Long For Rain But When It Comes It Is Warm Rain And Doesn’t Cool Things Off

Summers are rather hot here. You can’t move without sweating. So everyone holds as still as possible, waiting for night in the hopes that it will get infinitesimally cooler.

So it’s exciting when it rains, you know? Because everyone’s like, “Yes! This will definitely bring cooler temperatures!”

But it doesn’t.

7. Sleep Is The Only Relief But Going To Bed Is Depressing Because You Didn’t Do Anything All Day

Literally.

I sit around all day and do nothing. Except try to stay as cool as possible. Which basically means the same thing.

This leaves me feeling completely unproductive.

That said, I adore sleep, and by the time morning comes, I have somehow achieved a state of pleasant coolness… so getting out of bed is equally depressing.

8. Showers Are Pointless

First off, I do shower. Glad we cleared that up.

However, showering during the summer frustrates me. It is an exercise in futility. No matter how many times you shower, you know that you are going to sweat, feel disgusting and probably smell awful in mere seconds.

9. Bad Hair

I already have bad hair.

That said, it is ten times worse in the summer.

I have a mane of rather crazy hair. I struggle with it constantly. I’ve found that styling gel and sturdy rubber bands are my good friends in this. And usually they’re enough to wrestle my hair into some kind of order.

But humidity equals frizz. And let me tell you, it is not pretty.


10. My Birthday

Oh man.

As a child I could never choose a favorite season. Fall meant jumping in leaves, spring meant playing outdoors, winter boasted snow and, of course, Christmas, and summer meant no school and playing outside – and my birthday!

In the years following my birthday has increasingly come to mean embarrassment, awkwardness, and agony in general.

It means being in the spotlight for an entire day – even when you beg on hands and knees to be ignored. Don’t get me wrong – I love being in the spotlight. But I like to be the one who decides when I want to be there.

It is a depressing reminder of my childhood slipping away. An indication of another year I did nothing with.

I climbed no mountains, traveled to no foreign lands, didn’t even get a book published at the ripe age of sixteen and become and overnight sensation, for crying out loud.

What is there to celebrate, I ask you?

Do you, like me, hate summer? Why? Do you share any of my sentiments, or do you have reasons of your own? Or do you like summer (though I admittedly have a hard time accepting that this is even possible)?

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