One day you're sitting there, making plans for the summer. Maybe a weekend at the beach house, lazy afternoons by the pool, languid days spent picking wildflowers in the bountiful meadow surrounding our new offices in midtown Manhattan. And then the next day, you turn around and find out that there was no summer. It never got above 56 degrees, it rained every day, the pool was broken, whenever you flushed the beach house toilets the sink overflowed with sea water, and the wildflowers (which were admittedly quite nice because of all the rain) were off limits due to an infestation of West Nile virus-carrying mosquitos, which were there because it rained every day. Then we had to board up the meadow because of the hurricane that never made it this far north. And before we could even unpack our sweaters, we looked up and realized that we're putting the last issue of the year to bed.
|