Memorial Day Weekend/start of summer…it’s a nice thought, but for the most part, how I loathe it…

First of all, if you know anyone who says every year something like “I hate Memorial Day,” or “Memorial Day doesn’t feel like a holiday to me,” ask them what instrument they played in high school. Because I am willing to bet that at some point in their past was compulsory marching band.

(Yep, I played clarinet. And if I could have just done concert band and never had to march, I would have. March a mile from the fire hall to the cemetery, wearing wool/polyester uniforms in 80 degree heat – it could have been snowing the day before, but of course it would be blazing hot by parade morning. Stand in the heat through a bunch of bad speeches at the cemetery. March back to the fire hall, uphill. And of course playing patriotic marches the whole time. My band director hated it even more than I did – he counted down to retirement by how many Memorial Day parades he had left. )

(That’s not to say that I have no appreciation for marching bands. On the contrary – for whatever reason, I ended up researching the OSU Marching Band this afternoon and then finding some video. Script Ohio had me in tears.)

And it’s not really the start of summer. Sure, if you’re one of those people who has to open up their summer home, maybe. But I went to public school in New York State – at Memorial Day, I still had about three weeks to go. Our last day of classes wasn’t until mid-June, then we had a week-and-a-half of final exams. My high school graduation was on June 23rd, which I think is the earliest it could possibly be.

And let’s go back to those people with summer homes. I grew up in a small town on Lake Erie made up of both summer residents and year-round residents. And we year-round people don’t really care much for the “summer people” (I put that in quotes because we kinda really do use the term in a derogatory sense). Running jet skis at all hours of the day (The Mom’s pet peeve); not paying any attention to traffic laws; littering; treating everyone like garbage; setting off (illegal) fireworks on whatever night they choose, June – September.

(The fireworks have totally warped me. A car engine could backfire, a tire blow out, or even gunshots could be heard in my neighborhood here in the People’s Republic, in the middle of winter, and my first thought is always, “Stupid summer people setting off fireworks,” and then I ignore it for a few moments until I remember that I’m not at the beach.)

(No, The Mom and Surrogate Moms, I really don’t think I hear gunshots. You can stop worrying.)

Anyway…spring/summer has finally arrived in New England. I’m not dying yet, but I’m sure I will be within the next few weeks. I’ve been debating installing the air conditioner that Landlord left for me in my pantry when I moved in. I’m just reluctant to do so because I don’t want my electric bill to skyrocket, especially when I’m not working.

But for the past few days, it’s actually been comfortable in my apartment, in the mornings and early afternoons when I have the fans going. Damn near perfect climate, actually. This inspired my grand plan to install a hammock in my living room – swing back and forth in the light breeze, alternating between library books and napping (forgetting, of course, that I don’t nap). However, now my plan is to bring in a kiddie pool. In some ways, this is more feasible (and cheaper) than a hammock. But one major problem…how the hell would I haul one home on the T?

And now some bullet points of completely unrelated topics:

  • I had a damn near perfect iced coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts yesterday afternoon.
  • I watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I today. Is it me, or did they borrow a lot of production ideas from Lost?
  • Somebody in the neighborhood had a live jazz band at their party this afternoon. It was pleasant…for the first 10 minutes, when I could only hear it in my bathroom. Then I guess the wind changed, because I could hear it in my bedroom and it wasn’t so entertaining anymore.