It always started around this time of year. I'd be 8 or 12 or 16, and I'd be so done with school. The summer beckoned me. Early heat waves and weekend trips to the beach or the lake or Ocean City would just underscore the feeling. Monday mornings would be spent bemoaning that school was still in session. Classes at 2:05 would take much longer. Heck, classes at any time seemed to enter suspended animation. The stupid classroom clocks' hands wouldn't move no matter how long I stared at them.
Working life put the kibosh on the annual fevers. After only a couple of years of working, I lost the ability to recognize that summer was looming. Who cared? I'd be working regardless. Even after spawning, as I continued to work, the summer meant nothing to me, especially when the kids were little.
It's going on two years now that I've been among the gratefully unemployed. This will be my second full summer of hanging with the kids. And, people, I got the fever. Oh, I got the fever.
Time is at a standstill. There's still four weeks of the kids being in school, and we've been officially struck with the fever for three excruciatingly long weeks already. It's little help that Youngest's kindergarten class keeps track of the days left of school. According to him, there are now 18 days left of school. That many?! Aw, man!
I never would have guessed that I'd feel the fever again. I thought the fever was gone forever from my life. Gone the way of a skinny body and perky...you know. [No need in getting blog hits for people searching that term.]
But it's back, and it's back in full force. Maybe I'll run to the beach today while the kids are in school. Hee hee hee.