Lazy Hazy Crazy

 Out there somewhere is summer. I'll know it when I see it. It has the shape of something I am very familiar, but I cannot describe it. The colors are bright, but I cannot list them. I look forward to it. And I dread it. 

You may have a passing understanding of my feelings of dread. Most of them cannot be categorized as rational. Mostly I tend to worry about things over which I have no control. Vacations are near the top of that list. Which seems a little absurd, since vacations are all about planning, right? So is global domination, but try as they might, the Germans never saw D-Day coming. Which is pretty much how I feel about vacation planning: Prepare for global domination, but leave the door open for an invasion in Normandy. 

Somewhere out there in the midst of a relatively commitment-free two months is an expanse of Free Time. This is precisely the kind of time that usually ends up being filled with learning just how limited my actual Do It Yourself skills truly are. I might have a vision of rebuilding some section of the house that has fallen into disrepair (I'm looking at you, back fence) or maybe that clever addition that won't fit into a weekend-only slot (pouring concrete). These kind of adventures seem so viable before Memorial Day, and yet when August rolls around, they have yet to pass committee in my head. 

Much the same can be said for events like my birthday. Fourth of July. Our wedding anniversary. That one on the end will get some special notice because we will be passing the superficially significant thirty years. Right now, options are wide open. Celebrations could wrap serpentine over several weeks, culminating in the observations of yet another twenty-ninth birthday for my wife. 

And all that time, plants will need watering. The cat will need to be fed. Laundry doesn't do itself yet, and the trash piles up unless somebody moves it to the curb. That's a month right there. So that leaves me with just a few days to sit down and cogitate on just what sort of festival I can make out of the remaining time. The time we call "Summer."