Spring sprang early up here in Maine this year, which means I'm already dreading summer. I know for many of you, summer is a happy time. Lazy days and sunshine and all that rot. Not for me. Summer means hot, and hot means an unhappy Bryce. Plus, there's bugs, and bugs mean an unhappy Bryce, too. It's a recipe for disaster, and I have to mow my lawn twice a week on top of that. Remind me why I'm supposed to like summer?
The movies. :-)
Summer means blockbusters, jaw droppingly awesome effects, and time for matinees now and then. Really, if it weren't for all the kewl movies that come out in the summer, I might just move to Alaska. Or Brazil. I've heard their summer is winter down there. Australia, too. That's gotta be pretty nice. And I could fly up to Maine for the winters, so that winter is winter, and summer is winter. I'd stay in Maine for spring and fall, and life would be pretty much ideal: spring, winter, fall, winter, spring, winter, fall, winter. Nice.
How about you--what's so great about summer? Convince me. I'm willing to listen to other opinions about this one.