Are We There, Yet?

By Al Horn

I love summer. But, for reasons that will soon become obvious, it can be the most trying time of year. My love for summer? Let me count the ways.

I enjoy Tuesday and Friday night golfing, and swatting mosquitoes. I enjoy working in the yard, and swatting mosquitoes. I enjoy sitting on our back deck in the evening, and swatting mosquitoes. I enjoy sitting at outdoor fireworks displays, and ... well, I think you get the idea.

It doesn't matter how much bug spray I put on. Somehow, someway, a square inch gets missed and I get bit once or twice. I could be on one side of a two-mile wide lake and if there was a mosquito on the other side, it would fly all they way across that lake just to bite me. There are some immutable laws in this universe; I have just described one of them.

Don't get me wrong. I will still take summers inevitable miseries over the chill of winter. In fact, the cool weather this year has actually allowed me to enjoy many evenings without the company of my bloodthirsty foes. Still, I patently await the first good frost that seams to banish them for the season. As much as I like to play golf in shorts and polo-style shirts, I enjoy slacks and a good windbreaker even better.

Are we there, yet?