Summer Hatin'

“Goddamn sun.” I sighed irritably as the pleasantest part of my popsicle slid off it’s stick and splattered into a strawberry sludge on the sand. I gazed longingly at the diminishing red splodge, damning the sun and damning myself for not eating it fast enough.

I’d been preoccupied with trying to pick the perfect spot to place my beach towel. The scalding sand had been burning my feet. I’d scoured the beach for the best area. Not too crowded, not too hot. Just right. I’d finally found it. I laid out my beach towel, sat down and went to devour my popsicle, and just like that, right in front of my eyes, it had disappeared. Gone forever.

This is why I hate summer. 

I sat on my towel with a scowl on my face. I desperately wanted to get another but I didn’t think my feet could take any more sizzling surfaces. I sat there feeling sorry for myself for a few more seconds, until I reached into my beach bag and emerged with a sausage roll. I ate it miserably whilst watching the rippling water. Because of the heat and the fact that it was summer, the beach was packed. People ran up and down, some kicked a ball, others threw a ball. Dogs ran into the waves, kids ran into the waves, some kids surfed on the waves as their parents 'watched’ them from their sun loungers. People everywhere, like flies around… 

The worst thing though, about having all the people everywhere and being at the beach, the absolute worst thing, is that every person you see is wearing sandals, flip flops or are barefoot. This disgusts me, because I absolutely despise feet. They’re gross, disgusting, ugly things that, under normal circumstances, are shielded from my grateful eyes by shoes and socks, but now that Mr.Sun is out, I see the monstrosities everywhere I go. Everywhere I turn. I shuddered. 

This is why I hate summer.

I mean, a week ago, I could’ve come here and not seen a single soul. The beach would’ve been deserted. Now, there were screaming kids, car doors slamming, dogs barking. Annoying. I don’t even actually like the beach that much, I prefer the mountains. The sand is annoying, always too hot and just gets everywhere; in your shoes, in your hair, in your bag. I get home after spending 30 minutes at the beach and the amount of sand that falls off me could create a miniature Sahara desert in my kitchen. It’s very annoying. I grimaced suddenly. Yikes, I’m beginning to sound like Anakin Skywalker. I began to relax, but found myself scowling for the second time today, as a blurry football came whooshing over my head. I narrowed my eyes at the kid who’d kicked it. He didn’t acknowledge me at all. 

This is why I hate summer.

I finished my sausage roll, brushing the crumbs off my mouth and t-shirt. I put my red, Kurt Cobain-style glasses on and laid back, closing my eyes. I might as well try and get some kind of tan. I could never tan, only burn. My chalky skin became redder with every second that passed. I relaxed for a good half hour. Suddenly, I shot up, as a heap of silt landed directly on my face. I scanned my surroundings for the scoundrel who’d slung the sand. Immature degenerate. 

This is why I hate summer.

Getting to my feet, I grabbed my towel and shook the tiny particles off it before stuffing it into my beach bag angrily. I walked a few steps, before having to stop. My feet were burning up. Rummaging around in my bag, I found my red flip-flops and slid my feet into them. Slightly better. I made my way off the beach and reached the sidewalk. I decided for a change of scenery, and so I headed to the park. Hopefully, that will be less busy, although I shouldn’t really get my hopes up. The whole town was teeming with tourists. I passed the restaurants and cafes on the right, their chairs and tables placed outside for the customers to enjoy the sun. The chairs were a shiny metal. Maybe not the best choice of seating in this heat. The buildings had recently been painted to look more appealing to the visitors, and so the beachfront was full of colour and so vibrant. It looked very nice.

I’d just made my way from the beach and was strolling on the pavement, around 10 minutes away from the park, when I felt something squidgy under my foot. I looked down and then looked up to the sky, praying.

“Please, no. No, no way did I just step in…” I pleaded, as I peeked at the bottom of my flip flop. No, I hadn’t stepped in the unimaginable. Thank. The. Lord. I peered closely at the reddish, bubbly stuff that had accumulated on my shoe. I squinted. I sniffed. It smelt like...burnt rubber? I tried to continue on my journey, but every step I took stuck to the concrete beneath me. I let out a squeal as a pain shot through my foot, as if someone had poked it with the end of a cigarette. I examined the substance again, and now, there was a slight hole there. I frowned in confusion, until I realised that it’d melted. The pavement had been too hot and had actually burnt through my shoe! Unbelievable. I threw the flip-flop into the bin.

“Worthless piece of…” I murmured. 

This is why I hate summer.

I debated whether or not to discard the other shoe. Yes, one foot would be blistered by the time I reached the park, but that didn’t mean the other one had to be. Standing by the stinking bin, I deliberated. Then, I had an eureka moment. I reached for my beach towel and wrapped it around my non-flip flopped foot, tying it securely with a hair tie. I smiled proudly at my ingenuity, before advancing toward the park, doing a weird skip and hop to avoid the smelting of my other shoe. I encountered many strange looks off of plenty of people. Some openly laughed, some tried to hide it. I heard one person shout ‘hop along’, but most just watched me in confusion. Embarrassing. At least I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me. I felt my ears becoming hot. Either someone was talking about me, or the sun was burning me. It could be any one of those reasons at this point. After hobbling along, I reached the park. It seemed much quieter than the beach but there were still a lot of people there. Some played frisbee and others played football. It seems that football is an ‘OK-to-play-on-any-type-of-surface’ game. I trudged through the park, wary of the ball and frisbees that flew through the air like speeding UFOs, before sitting on a small, wooden bench. I sat for a few minutes, watching the ducks float around in their pond, quaking loudly. They always seem so angry. I then realised that my bottom was becoming increasingly...moist. I thought that it was probably sweat. It was very humid and I had been walking around all day, so I got up to investigate anyway. Reaching around to look at my white skirt, I was met with a brown, sticky liquid. 

This is why I hate summer.

“No,no,no,no,noooo” I hissed. I damned the bench, and then myself for not looking before sitting. Observing the park, I checked to see if there was anyone watching me. With the coast seemingly clear, I dived in, nose first, to determine the mysterious matter. Hmm. A sweet, strong scent, almost...Chocolate ice cream! Melted chocolate ice cream. The worst flavour. I tried to dab at it, trying to make it disappear or at least make it look less like bird excrement. Nope, still visible, still dubious looking. In this situation, I would probably wrap my beach towel around my waist, however, as unluck would have it, I’d already made use of that.

“At least I’m good at being sustainable and finding multiple uses for things.” I sighed. OK, so, I have two options. Number one, take the towel off my foot and wrap it around my waist, Number two, do nothing. The cons of number one? I would then have to suffer a burning foot. The problem with the second option? I’d walk around looking like someone who doesn’t know how to wipe properly. Hmmm, dilemmas. Either my foot burns to a crisp or I take a chance and pray that no one sees the stain.

This is why I hate summer.

I chose the latter. No way would I put my foot through anymore pain and suffering. I started to head home, but then I stopped.

“Maybe I should just take a stroll through the park, I mean, I’m already here. Maybe I should try and make the most of the weather?” I considered aloud, before laughing slightly. Heck, no. I want to ensure that the least amount of people see me as possible. Shuffling over to the duck pond, I unwrapped my tender foot and plunged it into the cooling water. Much better. I dried it, patting it ever so gently, and wrapped it back up again. I checked my skirt again, praying the stain had disappeared or even diminished in size. It hadn’t. I sighed, clutched my beach bag, and started my journey back home. 

I was around 5 minutes from my house when I started to sneeze violently. I sneezed 5 sneezes in a row. I whipped out my phone and used the black screen as a mirror. I had to check that there weren’t any...bats in the cave, if you know what I mean. The caves were bat-less and so I went to put my phone back into my bag, but then my eyes began to weep and itch. I rubbed them violently until I began to see tiny sparkles. They burned like mad. I examined them on my phone camera and they were red and blotchy, like I’d been crying for 2 hours straight. I sneezed again. Rubbing my eyes, trying to find some comfort, I realised that it was probably my hay-fever. Dammit. Out of all the dangerous, deadly things out there in the world, it’s grass that causes me to experience this frustrating and agonising pain.

This is why I hate summer.

I’d already taken my 2 hay-fever tablets this morning, and put eye drops in my eyes, but it seems that wasn’t enough to deter the pollen. I reached for my sunglasses and covered my eyes, hoping the coldness of the plastic would soothe my eyes. I walked a little further until I saw my house. I walked up the porch steps, unlocked the door and wandered into the kitchen. I dumped my bag on the counter and unwrapped my foot. Ouch. It was red raw. I grabbed some cling film and wrapped it around the sore. I hobbled up the stairs, threw my clothes in the laundry bin and jumped in the cool shower. I washed the sweat, sand and stale sun-cream off my body. Washing the grease out of my hair, I suddenly remembered I had a bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk on my kitchen table. Something to look forward to. After a good 15 minutes of scrubbing, I hopped out. I dried myself, changed into my pyjamas, put my hair in a turban. I entered the kitchen, heading directly for the Dairy Milk. There it was, on the table, the plasticy purple wrapper inviting me, gleaming in the sun. The sun.

“Aw, sh-” I scooped up the bar and, as I’d dreaded, it was hot, malleable and melty, like chocolate soup. I wanted to scream.

This is why I hate summer.

I put the bar in the fridge, hoping it would solidify. Scouring the fridge, I tried to find anything appetising. Not much to choose from. All I had that was considered a meal was a Tupperware of leftover tuna pasta salad from yesterday. I left it on the counter for a few minutes while I had a glass of water and put more drops in my eyes. Damn hay-fever. I ate the salad in front of the TV, scrolled on my phone for about an hour and a half, and then it was 9:30PM. Knowing I had work in the morning, I made my way to bed. I brushed my teeth and jumped into my cool, relaxing bed. After around 30 minutes, my ‘cool, relaxing bed’ had turned into a hot, insufferable, sweaty pit. I tossed, I turned, I switched my pillows, I kicked my duvet off. Nothing gave me solace. The heat was unbearable. I opened my window. Slightly better. I just managed to get to sleep but awoke to the sounds of jubilant screams and cheers and hoots. I growled. This was the downside of living so close to the beach and park, especially this time of year.

This is why I hate summer.

Gazing at my alarm clock, I groaned as it read 4:30AM. Three and a half hours later and I’d be waking up for work. Great. Covering my head with a pillow, I finally dozed off and awoke to my blaring alarm. Groggy and still tired, I stumbled out of bed. I got dressed, washed my face, had breakfast, brushed my teeth and grabbed my purse. I was out the door for 8:25AM. Thirty-five minutes to battle through the crowded streets and traffic. Great. I reached my car, unlocking it with the fob and made a grab for the handle. I recoiled in shock and pain. The burning handle had seared my hand, a shiny red patch now spanned my palm. I cursed.

This is why I hate summer.

Using my shirt as a makeshift glove, I managed to get the door open. I slid into the seat (thank God they’re not leather), started the engine and was just about to leave when I had a phone call. Great. Reaching for my phone, I saw the name on the screen read out ‘Joanna - Work’. This can’t be good. Hesitantly, I answered. 

“Hi, Amelia?” (Ugh, go away)

“Hi, yes, this is Amelia.”

“Hi, it’s Joanna, from work.” (I know, Joanna, I saw your name on the screen)

“Oh, hi Joanna, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, well, unfortunately we don't need you in today. The air-con has broken and in this heat, we’d get sued if we had you working in the office today. So everyone’s having the day off.” (Ha-lle-lujah.)

“Oh, no. That’s awful” (Yes,yes,yes thank you Lord.)

“Yeah. Enjoy your day. Bye.”

“Yeah, and you Joanna, bye.” (Good riddance)

I threw my phone into my purse, switched the engine off and ran back into my house, tearing my shoes and work clothes off and half-running, half-stumbling upstairs.

“Thank you, sun, thank you faulty air-con, thank you summer.” I murmured gleefully. I bolted for my bed and dived in. I smiled contently and fell asleep instantly.

This is why I love summer.