My least favorite part about summer on the east coast is the high humidity. In July, we will have a pool at our RV camp. I can hang out in a pool for hours without a care in the world.
In August we will be steps from the Atlantic Ocean. I look forward to early morning walks with Beth and late afternoon siestas when we have completed our work with the summer campers.
And for much of our RV adventure, we will enjoy the glorious dry heat in the Southwest. When we traveled west the first time, I said to Beth, “I feel like I’ve rediscovered how to enjoy summer, again.” Amen!
My second least favorite thing about summer are the bugs, particularly the flies at the beach that want to physically hurt me. I also hate the common houseflies that like to get into our camper and bother us ad infinitum until we hunt and kill the little fuckers.
Of course, flies can sense when I’ve turned from my usual peaceful self into a crazy hunter. I am convinced that once they’ve had their fill of landing on a juicy peach or a dab of strawberry jelly left on a counter top, they are game for a match with me, The Great White Fly Hunter!
I think some of these flies know that I once killed their ancestors by the hundreds and they are out for revenge. In 1982, I had a horrible summer job pumping gas in Bethany Beach, Delaware. To try and get more customers, the station owner put up a fruit stand. Accordingly, the flies descended on me in droves and I fought them off like John Wick.
The other job that I had that summer was picking up litter in a parking lot in Ocean City, Maryland. It was hot as hell and I lasted exactly two days. Without a doubt I had the two worst jobs in two of the nicest beach towns on the east coast.
That summer – the one following my freshman year at college – was notable in other ways, too. But that’s a story for another day.
It’s time to kill this fucking fly!