Working in the Summer

I’m sitting here at my desk trying to review advertising without resenting the fact that I’m sitting here at my desk reviewing advertising while it’s 80 degrees outside with a cloudless blue sky and zero humidity. I’m not being terribly successful at this, obviously, since I am also writing about this very attempt at avoiding resentment instead of sitting at my desk reviewing advertising.

I keep thinking about the summers of my youth, when I had all the time in the world to run through sprinklers, pick strawberries, wade through creeks, dig meaningless holes in my father’s gardens, bike ride around the block 200 times without getting bored of it, climbing trees, eating salty french fries at the lake, playing with the dog, watching fireworks…. Now that I’m old enough and responsible enough to have an income to support my fantasies, I’m finding I don’t have the time to realize them. Instead I’m watching other people living my dream as I gaze at them from my 49th floor window. People eating ice cream or playing tennis or taking pictures or going on ferries, wearing sunglasses and t-shirts while I have to wear a goddamn sweater in my color-controlled, light-controlled, climate-controlled, fun-controlled cubicle.

Resentment? Nah. This is a party in here!

Still, I guess we are all responsible for our choices, and right now this is a choice I have to live with. Maybe I don’t have to like it, and maybe not liking it is a step to changing it so I do like it. And maybe it would be fair to realize that maybe what I see through the window isn’t reality, and that what’s in my memory may be somewhat selective. But goddamn. The summer is MY playground, and I haven’t been able to enjoy it the way I want in way too long.

Obviously I need to pick up and move my cubicle outside on the grass. Yes, I think that would be swell. And maybe a thatched roof and ceiling fan for hot days. I’ll talk to facilities to see what can be done.


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