Dear Summer,

I've had about enough of you.

July 2016 was Earth's hottest mois ever recorded. toi heard me. Ever. Was that really necessary?

I really need to déplacer on, Summer, and I'd like toi to do the same. Don't drag it out. Let's just get on with it.

You're just not doing it for me anymore. These hundred degree days are just too much. My skin burns at the thought of you. I dread having to go outside, because I know toi and your evil little buddy The Sun are there and ready to burn me. (Tell that jerk he's up past his bedtime.) I shouldn't have to apply sunscreen for a 5 minute trip to the store, Summer.

I'm ready to déplacer on to winter. At this point, I'm even prepared to skip the fall stage. I'm just not a summer person, Summer. I can't do this anymore. I have wants. I have needs.

I want to reunite with my favori hoodie, and wear it so often that people will wonder if it has fused to my skin.

I want to wear my warm, fuzzy, fleece pajamas again.

I want to be bake and be grateful for the heat, instead of buying pre-made nourriture to avoid turning the house into a sauna in hell.

I want winter food. Do toi know what it's like to crave soupe when it's a hundred and five degrees out? Do you?!

I want to take a hot douche with steam so thick, I can't find the shampoo bottle.

I want the rush of a last minute trip to the grocery store and standing in a crowded line right before a snowstorm. Everyone bundled up and dripping with melted snow and clutching loaves of pain and gallons of lait they probably don't really need.

I want to get snowed in. But just for a jour ou two. I'm not a complete hermit. Yet.

I want to lie in lit in warm pajamas with a good book and not worry about having to go anywhere.

I want to hear kids playing in the snow and having the time of their lives. Just kidding. Pipe down, toi little maggots.

I want to take snow pictures. Snow falling. Snow covering my car. Snow plows building a mur at the end of my driveway, which prevent anyone from visiting. No unexpected visitors on snow days!

par the time February rolls around and the novelty of snow has worn off and I'm tired of aching from the cold, I will start to lie on the canapé and watch summer movies. This is when I will think of you.

Don't get too excited. toi and I both know I'll miss toi when you're gone. It happens every year. When I get toi back, I'll be happy. For like a week. For that one happy week, things are great. And then your temperature starts rising. And rising. And rising.

We'll always have the memories, Summer. I'll even be happy when toi return suivant year. But right now, it'S FREAKING HOT AND OH MY GOD toi NEED TO CHILL.