Monday, July 03, 2006

The pros and cons of summer.

As I staggered into my apartment carrying a load of groceries, sweating like Ted Striker in Airplane! after my Everestlike climb up the stairs, I wondered to myself, "How the hell could anyone actually prefer summer as a season?"

These days, I spend at least 80% of my waking hours trying to devise ways to keep my body temperature below "July in Riyadh." I position and re-position my lame fans, strip off as much clothing as possible, and at night I lay in bed and dream of Ellesmere Island (although it won't be long before palm trees sprout up there, if we keep going the way we're going).

Is this the way to live one's life?

I've decided to come up with some pros and cons regarding this current season. Mind you, I am already biased against it, so this list may or may not be "fair and balanced." (Hey, at least I make the disclaimer; Fox News just seems to think that if they repeat that phrase often enough, it'll just become true.)


Women wear less clothing.
Usually this works in my favour; I am a huge fan of the short skirt and bared midriff. Most women who decide go this route actually do look good in it... but, once in a while, someone goes in way over their head, and that ain't pretty. That being said, the eye-candy around this fair city (owing to its mixed-up, multicultural nature) is very tasty as the temperature rises.

Baseball is played.
I was on a softball team when I lived in Toronto before, and played last summer in Kingston in a very recreational intramural league (e.g. no umpires), and that's always fun. Also, the big-league season is in full swing; around this time of year the Tigers are usually on the cusp of being mathematically eliminated from the playoffs, but as you all know, this year is different. Which makes me a happy guy.

The evenings are nice.
A few nights ago I took a stroll around the neighbourhood at around 9 pm. It was decently cool by then, it was still a bit light out, and people were out on patios and sauntering around and generally enjoying themselves. I like my neighbourhood: it's quaint, has pretty much everything with a 10-minute walk (including excellent bagels), and there are plenty of SUVs to spit on.


The days are hell.
Sure, the evenings are in the mid-20s, but that means the days are over 30. Pasty bastards with northern European backgrounds are clearly not designed for this type of climate. In fact, I'm positive it wasn't the "harsh Canadian winters" that did-in the Vikings a thousand years ago — they came from places like freakin' Iceland — it was the heat and humidity of a Canadian summer that sent them packing.

Minus-15 is refreshing.
The heat makes me want to lay around and not do anything. The cold, I find, refreshes me: I take a deep breath of crisp, frigid air, and I'm ready to go. Mind you, you've got to be bundled-up for the cold, and that takes a while; it certainly doesn't take five minutes to put on a t-shirt, shorts and sandals. I don't mind, though; I have a warm coat and decent gloves. Bring it on.

Sunburns hurt like a bitch.
If you're pale like me, you know the routine... slap on the sunscreen before you go outside for more than three minutes so you won't get a debilitating second-degree burn that'll make you wince for days. And if you're not pale like me, and have never known the pain of a sunburn caused by the scorching Florida sun that makes your skin blister-up two days later and probably will end up killing you with skin cancer in forty years' time... fuck you.

In conclusion, bring on December. Ho-ho-ho.

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