Oh, those summer nights...

It finally happened. I woke up with that sticky feeling. The underside of my hair and back of my neck were slightly damp with sweat. The dreaded summer.

I've been able to exist for the past two weeks with just the comfort of my ceiling and box fans; and the nights are cool enough that I can leave the patio door open. Well, not any more.

Goodbye low electric bills.
Goodbye fresh air flowing through my house, thus reducing my claustrophobia.
Goodbye aromas of blossoming orange trees and neighbors grilling.

The children have finals this week and end their school year on Wednesday. Which also means that I will officially be the parent of a Junior and Senior in High School.

(Cue montage from every coming-of-age movie ever made and cut to shot of me sobbing on the couch - with a glass of wine in one hand, anti-aging brochure in the other hand and baby books on my lap.)

(Fade to black for transition and standby cue for 'Midlife Crisis'.)

I have promised to spend a good portion of the summer concentrating on defensive driving with the children so that they can get their licenses by the time my girl turns 16 in August.
(Cut to same shot on the couch, but wine has been replaced with hard liquor.)

So... this week, I pack my little heart out and hopefully organize everything into what will stay, what will go, and what we'll attempt to sell in a yard sale next weekend. Next Monday is the first week of summer camp, which means I'll be up at 7am every morning to teach Shakespeare to teens. Somehow on Tuesday and Wednesday, I'm also going to move all my crap from one house to the other - cue frantic phone call to bonded/insured moving companies - and establish my new home (for at least the next year).
I'll be teaching during the day and moving/unpacking in the evening... and probably passed out like a lousy drunk at night.
I feel for the kids, if only because I know they'll be saddled with chores and tasks and menial labor for the first couple weeks of their summer break. Picking up mom's slack. That's gonna suck for them.
Then I'll take them out in the Jeep and let them drive. Oh Lord, that's gonna suck for me.
Just thinking about it gives me heart palpitations and sets me on track to hyperventilate.

I'm feeling restless. Packing feels like purgatory. Knowing there's a D-Day just makes me wish it were here already so I can face it head-on with the energy I have now. I fear that the week will sap me and leave me unprepared for the physical and emotional tasks at hand. I'd love to just snap my fingers and have everything packed, cleaned, laundered, and ready to go. At least then I could go to the movies or do something frivolous without constantly thinking, "I should be at home, packing and cleaning or doing something productive."

I take solace in the prediction that today's weather will be cooler. I might leave my doors and windows open for one more night in the hopes that the onset of our oppressive summer will be be delayed for an evening or two.

...and here's to hoping that everything goes as smoothly as I've dreamed it out in my head.

... like a 1950's 'Grease' montage with talented, but misdirected children finding an outlet in Shakespeare; laughter at driving attempts that result in stalled or overheated engines; and moving company fellahs that spontaneously break into dance around the truck while singing 'We Go Together' as the entire neighborhood joins in and dances in the street (and I skip around handing out gift baskets of homemade goods while dressed as June Cleaver.)

Okay, so it may not go THAT smoothly... but I'll be content with anything that isn't a total disaster.

Oh, those summer nights.

One, two, three... jump.