The other night when we went to bed, it was a little bit hot in our apartment. Holding off on putting the air conditioner in the window for as long as possible, Lewis put a fan in the living room window on full blast. We closed all the doors except for the one to our bedroom, hoping to tunnel the cool air straight to us.
As I settled down under the covers into the soft folds of our pillow-top, a wave a comforting nostalgia washed over me. I remembered many summer nights from my youth where it was just this side of too hot, but heavens I could never sleep without the covers (still true). Those summer nights were the eves of glorious summer days full of running in the sprinkler, climbing trees, and washing the car - aka the best dang times ever.
Sure. I complained all summer that I was bored. I probably was even excited to start school again when the end of August showed up. But after a week of that crap, I was ready to be back to summer vacay.
As I grew older and my parents realized how expensive I was to keep around (I'm very high maintenance, you know), I obtained a summer job. Lifeguard. Pretty much I was paid to go swimming and get a tan. I spent most of most days in nothing more than a swimming suit and a tank top and/or swim shorts (although my parents preferred me to put on pants at the dinner table). My only regret from that three summer long job is that most of my heroic saves occurred on the cold and drizzly days where you had to pay me to jump in that frigid water (good news for the drowning kids: they paid me).
Back to the other night and the nostalgia wave. As I lay there in bed, I thought about all the things I wanted to do the next morning. I wanted to go swimming. I wanted to run around aimlessly outside. I wanted to climb a tree and read a book. I wanted to eat an ice cream sandwich on my porch.
Then I went to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I went to work and spent six or seven hours in a chair at a desk in front of a computer, listening to screams of delight from the EFY kids during lunch.
Now don't get me wrong. I have a great job, a fact of which I was forcibly reminded of just last week. But man-oh-man. I most definitely picked the right career for my desired lifestyle.
The good news is, I have a dear husband who has a similar attitude toward summer adventures as me. Our apartment is a mess right now because we chose to hike around Y mountain, go to an outdoor barbecue, and engage in a summer evening swim rather than clean it. Such activities are bound to continue during the evenings and weekends until July the twenty-third when I am done with my job. Then we can play all day for almost a month before we have to start making the big bucks.
But in the meantime, I'm just dreaming of the future. A life of summers off? Yes, please.