gone, another summer season
The air was cooler yesterday afternoon as I wound through the streets of Pittsfield to The Eagle, and the sky was grey. It felt like rain; rather, it felt like the few moments just before rain. It felt like a Vancouver afternoon.
Summer's almost gone. I'm not terribly sad to see it go. It's always been my least favorite of the seasons. No school -- yeah, I was one of those kids who loved school -- and no relief from the heat. Worst of all, no new episodes of my shows.
Ever notice how "hiatus" sounds a lot like "hate us"?
Also, I can't stand summer clothes. I don't wear sandals, because the world does not need to be exposed to my weird feet, and spaghetti straps and shorts are less than flattering on me.
So I'm looking forward to fall, that season of plaids and tweeds and crisp evenings and spiral notebooks. And I'm white-knuckling my way to the end of September, when I'll be on vacation, and when, God willing, my shows will return from hiatus.