Summer is over.

It’s the first week in August. There is a month until Labor Day and six weeks left until the Autumnal Equinox. You know what that means: Summer is over.

It’s just over. Most of the August has yet to have red check marks on it but it’s basically done, along with the season. There’s no point in enjoying the rest of it. Summer was pretty much over right after Independence Day. We might as well just start on fall.

I know I have. I’m dragging my decorative gourds out of storage. We closed the pool weeks ago because the season is shot. The only think I’ll be barbecuing now is a pumpkin. Most of the time, the burners on my stovetop are filled with pots of chili and soups. I always leave parties an hour before they end and sit in the car until someone drives me home. In a few weeks we’ll be going to the shore and I’m bringing my heavy wool coat. Because it gets chilly at night. Like, Arctic. Because it’s late August and that means summer is long, long dead.

Sigh.

The only thing to do now is finish up my Christmas shopping. Well, that and bitch about the coming winter (which I’ll start on once I’m finally over the trauma of last winter’s record-setting average snowfall in our area).

I’ll check up on everyone in three or four months, once I’m finished buying my Easter candy. Then it’s on to planning my retirement.