An Open Letter to Summer

Hi, Everyone!

How are you? Summer’s practically here, isn’t it? I love this time of year. I love the berries and days at the beach and camp outs and fireflies and general kumbaya-like vibe of the whole thing. In Chicago, summer means that you really survived something – especially this year when I was wearing my winter coat until the last week of May – so we savor the heck out of it. Summer makes me remember that last day of school, that last bell of the season, and a whole expanse of lovely days ahead of me.

We’re all in this summer thing together. That being said, here are a few things that might make the warm months ahead go a little more enjoyable for all parties.

To my son:

    1. When it’s hot out, please don’t lean on me. I love you more than I could ever express, but your silky (and SEARING) flesh against mine feels like a red-hot poker being pressed against me. Please don’t take offense if you touch my arm and I jump away like you just branded me with an iron. Let’s all just keep to our personal space bubbles, though, ‘kay?
    2. Stepping on a Lego is a plague for all seasons but hopping on one foot in pain when I’m already overheated is just not a lot of fun.
    3. “In or out? Am I paying to cool off the rest of the block?!” All those clichés that I swore I’d never say, well, I’m saying them. Shut. The. Door.

To whoever used the last ice cubes or drank the last iced tea:

    1. You wouldn’t think of leaving that empty, now, would you?

To my community:

    1. Must you drive with the bass turned up to eleven? It makes my head feel like it’s going to explode. If that happens, I’m totally aiming for your car.
    2. I get that most of you are not vegetarians. I totally understand that you enjoy barbecuing various animal parts. I just so don’t want to smell it, though, or walk through a ground-level ash cloud of it. While I’m at it, I also do not want to see discarded chicken leg bones on the ground as I make my way through life. It’s totally sad and gross. Could you kind of keep that stuff to yourself more?
    3. Ice cream trucks, don’t you think “Turkey in the Straw” (a.k.a. the “Do your ears hang low” song) is a little overdone? Plus when I was in camp, we changed the lyrics of that particular song from “ears” to “boobs” and so that’s always what is going through my head when I hear you. I’d rather not think of sweaty boobs right now, okay? Do you take requests? How about Für Elise? That’s pretty and it doesn’t make me think of sweaty boobs.
    4. To those who cannot leave their homes without a big puffy cloud of perfume all around your person, please know that this seriously makes my temples throb. In the summer, it’s like you’re surrounded by an ozone of magazine perfume samples. Can’t we just do a little spritz and call it a day?
    5. To the homeowners who aim your sprinklers so that they spray the sidewalk with water: all things told, is this the most considerate thing you could do? Should people have to walk on the street to avoid getting wet so that your grass can be Technicolor green? Somehow I think you are the same people who don’t shovel your sidewalks in the winter or do a half-assed job of it. This summer, I am going to take note of where you live and test this idea.
        a. If I find out it’s true, I’m totally going to give you a dirty look should we ever cross paths.
    6. To people who comment on my pale skin and tell me to get some sun: and muck up my meticulously maintained ghostly pallor? Millions of goth kids would kill for my Morticia-like epidermis, Besides, my skin will thank me for all my studious years of sun avoidance as I get older. Will yours? 

To movie theater managers:

    1. Please mellow out with the air conditioning. It feels good for about 10 seconds on a really hot day but after that my teeth are chattering, I’ve got goose bumps and I’m shivering uncontrollably. Seriously, I beg of you. I am dying over here. I should not have to put “pack a blanket along” on my mental checklist every time I see a movie in the summer.

To the mosquitoes:

    1. I am non-violent but you thirsty little bloodsuckers are totally pushing it.

To businesses:
    1. I get so depressed when I see back-to-school specials next to the Fourth of July displays. Come on! Talk about a buzz-kill. It would be nifty if you could all have a pact to wait until August to roll out the spiral notebooks. That’s all I’m saying.
    2. Please see what I requested of movie theater managers two points up.

To my sunglasses:

    1. Why must you be in my way on rainy days and get lost as soon as it’s sunny? What is it about you?

To my family:

    1. Please remind me when I am ready to really, really lose my temper about something silly and minor to just drink a little ice water. Better yet, get it for me. A little slice of lemon or lime will let me know that you really care. I’m just saying.

Okay, I’m ready for summer. Let’s do it, people!

Love,

Marla