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Dear Summer Vacation,

You suck.

Seriously, I hate you.  I am on the edge of losing my shit and it is entirely your fault.  Because of you, my children are home with me every day, all day, without a break.  They’re bored, they’re cranky, they’re dehydrated and heat exhausted, they’re off schedule, their therapists keep going on vacation, and they consume their weight in Popsicles on a daily basis.  I’m not kidding – I could build a small fort out of all the Popsicle sticks that have been dropped on my floors.  To call you a “vacation” is a painful misnomer, Summer, because keeping up with you is nothing but work.   Work and heartache.

Oh sure, I try to outsmart you. The garden hose has been running consecutively for the last fifty-seven days.  I shuffle my little monsters to the park, the zoo, the beach, and the homes of unsuspecting friends in an effort to keep them entertained, but it’s never enough, is it?  Nope.  You just come back the next day with another big gaping hole of nothing-to-do that I have to fill up somehow.  Because of your insatiable demands, my bills remain unpaid, my cupboards are bare, and the message light has been blinking on my answering machine for three days.  My floor is so sticky that I recently lost a sock.  A sock, damn you!

And the worst part is that you just won’t die!  You are the endless summer from hell that will not fade away.  Those lucky bastards in California are already back in school, but you just linger and hang on like an infection that won’t heal.  We won’t get any relief from you for almost two more weeks, and you know damn well that the weak ones won’t make it that far, you sadistic jackass.

But you know what, Summer Vacation – screw you.  You know what I did last night?  I went to GAP, and do you know what I bought? SWEATERS!  That’s right, on a 90 degree day I took my sunburned butt to the mall to buy sweaters, because you can’t last forever.  I’m done with you. I quit you! You can’t keep kicking my ass forever.  School WILL start again, and you will fade into a distant memory where you belong.

So in conclusion:  Bite me, Summer Vacation!  You have outworn your welcome and your days are numbered!

(Twelve days, to be exact.  God, I hope I can make it.)

Uncordially yours (because I really, really despise you),

Lisa

Amen!