Summer. That bloody fucking summer. I hate it so much at times like this I can barely put it into words.
I’ve got my reasons. For the biggest part of it: bugs. I hate bugs. Be it the small flies that just appear out of nowhere and are impossible to catch, but keep flying in front of your screen, or be it the huge cockroach waving at you with its various appendages from the corner of the room.
Just now I had the pleasure to encounter the latter. It was pretty big, easily two inches. I have no idea where or how it got in considering I simply can’t think of a single opening in the room big enough for something that big to fit through. Not that I know of. Or do bugs have their own doors in the wall a’la Jerry (you know, the mouse)?
But if the non-stop annoyance of the bugs buzzing, lurking and squirming around biting more often than I’d be comfortable with (0), so if all that wasn’t enough, add the heat. What can you do against the heat? Nothing. Even if the office is air conditioned, the bicycle ride until there is not. When it’s cold in the winter I can just put on another layer – but I can’t take off more during the summer.
Why can’t it be just forever autumn or spring? Preferably early spring or late autumn so that there won’t be any bugs.
Man, I can sympathise. Fuck the flies that somehow get in. Fuck the heat.
Fuck summer.