Summer drains me. I often hear people complain about the cold months, the seasonal depression that overcomes them with the onset of grey skies and wind chills. For me, it’s the opposite. The lingering heat takes it’s toll on me in a big way. Nights are often sleepless, and when they’re not I wake feeling less rested than when I fell asleep. Days seem endlessly long; a problem compounded by daylight savings and longer daylight hours that are a trademark of summer.
My house has only one old clunky air conditioner, jammed into the lounge room window. It doesn’t work especially well, and only has any effect if the rest of the house stays completely closed off. Which means it’s not uncommon for my bedroom to still be ten degrees hotter than the actual outside temperature at any given time. It’s hard to sleep when it’s still 38 degrees in the early hours of the morning.
This is the hottest summer we’ve had in a few years, and even though we’re over half way through the season, this hot weather is going to continue well into March, and likely even April. But it’s not just a physical effect that summer has on me. I find my motivation to do anything is practically non existent. My determination to walk more is thwarted by the high night time temperatures. My overwhelming desire to sew isn’t enough to combat the uncomfortable conditions of my dining room. I’ve got itchy fingers, especially considering I haven’t so much as put fabric to machine since the ringmaster jacket I made for a commission last October. But I get increasingly irritated and uncomfortable in the cloying heat, and so doing anything creative is currently out of the question. Again, it’s difficult to concentrate on making something (either sewing, writing, or any other such creative outlet) when I’m constantly batting sweat out of my eyes.
I’m so ready for summer to be over. Give me chill winds and cozy clothing any day.