Writing on the Wall

A September Song - Award-winning column

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It’s that time again: School’s in, vacation’s over, and we can all get back to some semblance of a schedule, thank goodness.

It’s not that I don’t love summer — I do — it’s my second favorite season, next to spring. I love the warmth, the pool, the beach, the barbecued food, the drinks with pretty umbrellas in them; I love the smell of the ocean, the taste of fresh lobster with drawn butter and the feel of cool cotton on my skin. I love the 4th of July, the rest of July and the seaside festivals. But what I don’t like is the haphazardness of my days. Who knew I would thrive on formality? Not this laid-back chick. And not if you saw my kitchen table.

I really consider myself an easy-going, go-with-the-flow kind of person, but in the summer months, I actually miss getting up early, having that first cup of coffee (followed by two more), getting the kids up for school, making breakfast for four, preparing (or writing checks for) lunches, reading the paper (yes, I read other newspapers sometimes), putting some dinner in the crock pot, applying makeup, and checking my E-mail — all by 8 a.m.

That’s not to say I didn’t take advantage of those later risings this summer. It’s nice to stretch, think of the day ahead, and wonder what to wear (and will my arms look too fat in that summer shirt?) I took my time, ran some errands and just marvelled at the world around me (well, now I’m making stuff up, I didn’t do that last one).

But I still felt like I was not getting my usual head start at work. As much as I adore, admire and hold in high esteem my co-workers in the Herald newsroom, there’s nothing like getting into work early, with just the sound of the air-conditioner to keep me company. Ahh...quiet. Nice. Peaceful. For awhile, anyway.

And since I am such a fan of getting an early start, let me just say now that I am also a firm believer in nap time, siesta, whatever you want to call it — no matter what time I awake, I am absolutely good for nothing come 3 p.m. Nada. Zilch. My brain just doesn’t work, won’t absorb another bit of information and won’t allow my mind or body to produce anything of substance. This all lasts about three hours, when I’m ready again to face the world — or to get ready for bed.

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