"Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Those days of soda and pretzels and beer
Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer
Dust off the sun and moon and sing a song of cheer . . ."
        "Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer" - Nat King Cole

I used to love summer.  Now, not so much.  On days when the temperature climbs into the 90s  -- 30 days so far and counting -- going outside for more than 5 minutes is almost as unbearable as bundling up and facing the elements with a wind chill below 0 degrees.

The grass in my yard has burned to a crisp.  (I know, Californians call this "golden."  I call it piss yellow.)  Too many flowers, particularly those I planted this year, have wilted under the heat and called it quits.  And I'm feeling a bit depressed.  Is there such a thing as having a touch of SADD in July?  Heck, I have a goLite BLU sitting on the floor under my desk.  But the instruction manual says not a word about using it to correct an imbalance in the circadian rhythms in the middle of the summer when there's more sunlight than at any other time of the year.  

It's too hot to take a stroll or ride my bike or picnic with friends.  I don't even hear the little rascals two doors south bouncing on their trampoline or playing soccer.  It's as if a curfew has been declared, and no one dares break it.

Sure, I could head to the beach less than two blocks away for a swim in Lake Michigan.  But that necessitates donning a bathing suit and, well, I think I'd rather stay inside and suffer.  Ditto for accompanying my husband to the local YMCA pool.

I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd look forward to fall with its cooler temperatures and shorter days.  But I've taken to humming "Autumn Leaves" and dreaming of a white Christmas.