I'm Done With August

Why does August try so hard
To hoist itself on its own petard?
-- Purple Avenue by Tom Waits

Ah, August, a kidney stone of a month. I hate August, or should I say, I hate this August. I’m tired of it. It’s hot, about 185 degrees today, as it has been for every day I can remember. No rain. People are in a foul mood. It’s ugly.

The news is horrible. I can’t hardly listen anymore. So, as August swirls the bowl toward its inevitable conclusion, allow me to say good riddance. We don’t need you. Bring me the first crisp breeze of September. The State Fair and stroll down the Midway with my daughter and a Fletcher’s Corny Dog. Give me UT football and the fading light of a fall afternoon. Give me the smell of a fireplace and falling leaves. I’ll even take the bitter memory of 9/11 again for the fifth time. Get behind me August. I’m through with you.

A few thoughts on August from Slate, including an idea to take the month down to 10 days. I’m all for it.