A whine: (skip at will).

I hurt. Hurt, hurt, hurt. My right arm, from shoulder to wrist, is killing me. It was not this bad when I woke up this morning, nor did it hurt after I got done working out. I am out of Advil in my office and the painkillers in the departmental first-aid kid smell suspiciously like they've expired.

I think I screwed something up during my two hour marathon weeding session yesterday. (Seriously, y'all. The north garden had gotten that bad. Setaria all over the place - I have NO IDEA where it came from, unless it was in the topsoil I bought - because no one else seems to have a problem with it). Several of my perennials seem to have bit the big one thanks to my neglect/being too busy to weed earlier.) I think it's hurting especially bad now because it's like 5,276 degrees outside and it's so humid you could wet a washcloth by waving it around in the air.

I probably pre-injured it by scrubbing my kitchen and bathroom floors Saturday.
(Ironically - or perhaps not - one of the few things it does not hurt to do is knit. It hurts like hell to type and it hurts to just sit here in my overheated office waiting for my five o'clock class. But the knitting I did over my lunch break didn't hurt, but maybe that's because my house is about 20 degrees cooler than my office).

I hate the way summer never leaves here. Hey, Summer? Looked at a calendar lately? It's September 19! You no longer have the right to make it this hot or humid outside. I hope Fall kicks your *ss for overstaying your welcome when he finally gets here.

And Fall? Slowpoke. Hurry it UP, man. There are some of us who are ready for some cooler weather. And rain. Y'know what, fall? I got some research that is riding on having a couple days of good solid rain so I can actually dig soil without re-re-injuring my shoulder and arm. So you better get here, mister. And jolly quick - by my calculations you're supposed to be here Wednesday.

It's sort of odd, but I do tend to anthropomorphize the seasons. Fall is a cranky but still vigorous old man. Fall also has a sense of humor. Summer is one of those perfect model-types, who's used to getting her way. Winter is a Goth Chick, but one who also has a keen enjoyment of certain things like sledding and hot tea. Spring - I don't know, Spring is kind of amorphous to me, I guess I think of her as Summer as a pre-teen, before she developed her massive sense of entitlement and her tendency to withhold rain when she's displeased.

(I don't like summer much. Winter and fall are my favorite seasons).