By someone who’s sweating through their shirt while buying Halloween candy
It’s August.
You’ve reached that magical part of the year where everything is hot, sticky, and somehow smells like sunscreen, regret, and barbecue residue. It’s still 89 degrees outside, but Target wants you to believe you need a 12-pack of mini Snickers for trick-or-treaters who won’t show up for another 80 days.
Some stores even have Christmas displays in the back. Blink twice and you’ll be listening to Mariah Carey at CVS while sweating through your shorts and pretending it’s not weird.
So what now?
You had plans.
Summer goals.
You were going to hike. Camp. Kayak. Do yoga on a paddleboard while holding a cold brew and Instagramming it in sepia.
Instead, you:
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Sat in lawn chairs.
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Watched bugs.
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Argued over who forgot the potato salad.
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And maybe went to one minor league baseball game that ended in sunburn and a $9 hot dog.
It’s fine. This is the American way.
Time for a Last-Minute Vacation?
Sure. You still have time for a summer trip.
But here’s what’s left:
– Flights are now the price of a used Subaru.
– The Airbnb that used to cost $150/night now requires a blood sample, a security deposit, and a letter from your grandmother.
– The only rental car left is a 2003 PT Cruiser with 311,000 miles and a cassette player.
You could always go camping…
But it’s either “sold out,” “on fire,” or “so humid the raccoons carry personal fans.”
Still, maybe you need that one last hurrah. A spontaneous trip to the lake. A beach day with friends. Or just sitting on a patio until the mosquitos start drinking your sunscreen like it’s a pregame cocktail.
Meanwhile, in Aisle 4…
It’s mid-August, and already the stores are screaming:
“YOU’RE LATE FOR HALLOWEEN! BUY CANDY, LOSER!”
Giant inflatables of skeletons that light up. Pumpkin spice-scented cat litter.
Aisles of polyester costumes designed to burst into flames if you stand too close to a sparkler.
You go in for dog food.
You leave with a 3-pound bag of Reese’s and a vague sense that you’ve already failed autumn.
Let’s Be Real: Summer’s Not Over
Despite what the seasonal aisle says, summer isn’t gone.
It’s not even close. You still have:
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Two more weeks of telling yourself you’ll get to the beach.
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Three more weekends of eating corn on the cob like a typewriter.
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At least six more opportunities to get mildly sunburned while pretending you “don’t burn.”
So don’t panic.
Don’t buy the Halloween Oreos yet.
Don’t throw on a flannel and light a pumpkin candle just because Instagram tells you to.
You’re still in the season of:
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Questionable tan lines
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Unbearably hot car seats
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Random neighborhood fireworks
- And drinking something with a lime in it before 2 pm
August Is Like a Weird Roommate
It shows up late, stays too long, drinks all your Gatorade, and then tries to convince you it’s time to start decorating for fall. But deep down, it just wants you to chill. Maybe eat some watermelon. Maybe ride a bike once. Maybe jump in a pool and cannonball like nobody’s watching — except they are, and they’re filming it.
Because it’s still summer.
We just all forgot for a minute.
