It is possible that June is a difficult month for me. Most of the blame can go to allergies. There’s some grasses and trees and and stuff out there growing and blowing that does not agree with my immune system. What the heck, allergies? Why, allergies? How even dare you, allergies? Also, doesn’t it seem ridiculous that a person should even have allergies? Shouldn’t we have evolved past having difficulties with the the grass that grows in the climate where we live? The climate where we grew up? I’m disappointed in you, evolution.
Also, June, hi. I think June might be difficult because summer is here and summer is pressure. Summer means I’m supposed to be having fun and also, you know, moving my butt. And also, you know, going places. Pressure to be more active and more alive, I suppose. I am not supposed to want to spend the day watching shows about nuclear meltdowns. I’m supposed to be out boating on some lake. I’m supposed to be having picnics. I’m supposed to be weeding and mowing and growing. I’m supposed to be grilling on my deck and waving to neighbors and experimenting with pasta salad recipes.
Is 75 percent of one’s life feeling angst about the things one is supposed to be doing and not doing? I think so.
Except for those type A people. I am not a type A person. I might be a type D person. I don’t know if a type D person is a thing but I am making it a thing.