I know I’m in summer mode when it hits me.
By it, I mean … you know … that yearning to completely abandon all sense of routine and responsibility as one knows it. That feeling that makes you want to lose it. To just completely roam the streets all day and all night.
It’s never the same day every year, but for me it falls around the same time – usually around NXNE weekend – when the weather is perfect, I’m no longer wearing socks with my shoes, and I’ve gotten through an entire day coat- or jacket-free (with maybe a sweater for inside the office).
Today – Wednesday – was that day.
It hit me right about the moment when I walked through the front door of my parents’ house. The sun was still out and starting to set. Most of the windows were open and a wonderful breeze was wafting through the house.
I breathed in … dropped my bags … and immediately used every thread of self-control (which I believe has always been faulty) to stifle the urge to stride out the front door, and towards the closest bus stop to make the long trek towards the nearest patio downtown.
It’s only a matter of time before my concentration at work (which is barely there anyway) completely evaporates for the next 10 weeks or so.
This is what I sometimes hate about being (1) an adult and (2) in a home so far away.
It’s like I’ve got a nerdy accountant and an alley cat living inside me, and as soon as the latter awakens and is ready to stray, the former shoves her in a cat carrier and only lets her out on weekends.
It would really just be easier if the accountant gave the alley cat a nice, big scratching post. Or her own apartment half-way between suburbia and downtown, complete with hefty downpayment and enough money to pay her mortgage for a year.
(I cannot wait until I can move out.)