where the writers are
August is no friend of mine

My sister calls and emails daily the last few days of July and the first few of August. Each beginning of August I get blue. Terribly so. By the time September rolls around I usually snap out of it. Don't know why. Just the way I am.

It's hot and humid. I hate to close the house up for a/c, so it's nice now that I'm the only one home to just let the fan blow in the open window.

The garden is overgrown and unruly. My hair is frizzy and my head aches. My sons and husband have vacation plans (they are on the West Virginia border with Pennsylvania, Maryland on the way to North Carolina and just landed in Indiana today). I am home in my August funk, all alone.

On tap: laundry, organizing and painting. The wake of chaos they leave when packing for vacation is overwhelming, especially the younger son, who left most of the contents of his dorm room in my living room. Knowing this disturbs me, he actually made an effort. Still...

No food in house. Eating whatever is left over or growing in the garden. Already threw away three small loaves of bread covered in mold. Two onion bagels are the next to be tossed. Two bananas are reaching overripe status.

I should make a decision to enjoy August this year. Not even sure where to begin with that one. No, I don't care for August. I may well hide away until September.

Comments
5 Comment count
Comment Bubble Tip

Do not discard August or the

Do not discard August or the bananas, make banana bread with fabulous walnuts and welcome each day in, like it is the first day Jodi, the first day.

Comment Bubble Tip

I could have

written this, perhaps, I know that sense of overwhelm and decay inside and out...although mine is not tagged to August, I think. Write, even if it is melancholy, it is a language many speak and sometimes the words take the shadows from the heart to the paper. Breathe the air deeply. And eat. Nourish yourself. And every day do one thing that give you joy. I went to a 12 step program once for co-dependents, and we were forced (yes, forced) to do that every week - an ice cream, they called it. Boy was it hard to do when you feel like the mould is in your mind, not just the bread!!
Thinking of you, Jodi.

Comment Bubble Tip

We seem to have much in

We seem to have much in common, Kunzang, while being completely different. I will try to listen to your advice.
Mary, I considered making banana bread, but didn't. The house is awfully hot to bake. Maybe tomorrow. Still harvesting green beans from the garden, though.

Comment Bubble Tip

August, not December

Interesting that we all have our "trigger" times of the year. December does it for me, for obvious reasons. But I could see how August can be a bit of a downer. It spells the end of something. A change in the air, a shift.

Days of the week as well. Sunday I'm much more prone to the blues, for instance.

Thanks for your comment! I don't know too many people on Red Room so its nice to meet.

Comment Bubble Tip

Beth, I am the same,

Beth, I am the same, December and Sundays kill me!