Thursday, May 13


Summer has arrived early in New Haven. Ah, summer in the city. Smog, humidity, fetid garbage smells, and a sky that looks like the inside of a lung. I think I have the inverse of the wonderfully named Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D.). I call it Summer Affective Disorder. Most people welcome the green leaves of spring; I call them the green leaves of impending misery. I can’t understand why anyone would prefer summer to winter. When it gets cold you can always put on another layer or get a thicker wetsuit. When it’s hot what can you do? You can wake up with your hair stuck to your face and wring the sweat out of your sheets. Then you can have a shower, but that’s pointless because you’ll already be stinking again by the time you get to work.

And God help you if you try and visit a beach here during the summer. The same deserted and snow-covered beach with great waves that you remember from February is now packed. If you’re lucky enough to find somewhere to park it will cost $10 and then you get charged again just for the privilege of squeezing your way onto the beach. And the glassy cold barrels of winter have become feeble knee-high crumblers that are impossible to ride because of the mass of humanity in the way. And some people actually like summer. Madness.


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