End of Summer

Summer officially ends today; tomorrow my contract starts and I’m back at school every day. I’m about as ready for this as was the Bush administration for post-war reconstruction in Iraq. Fortunately though, I’m not in charge of Cascadia Community College’s infrastructure; students, unlike Iraqi citizens, will at least—in spite of my lack of preparation—have access to electric lights and flushing toilets.

There are two problems with having 3 months off in the summer. The first is that you don’t have four, or even six. Hell, why not twelve? Second, the re-entry sucks. Just about the time a person gets used to oversleeping and reading trashy novels, he has to gear up for shaving everyday and wearing long pants.

I realize, of course, that I can’t go on being an unproductive member of society forever; sooner or later, I’ve got to do my part to help train the next generation of corporate wage slaves for cubicle occupancy in the coming years. I just wish there were a way to do this that didn’t require me to be presentable before noon any day of the week.

Yes, I’m lazy and self-centered, but during the summer, that doesn’t matter. In fact, my personal failings lend themselves to my ongoing enjoyment of the season. It’s only when I’m faced with the prospect of having to do things—and more to the point, do them for the benefit of others—that my default personality creates any problems.

I probably should have taken the day off today, although when one isn’t working, it’s difficult to determine exactly what that entails. Perhaps when one isn’t doing anything, doing something should count as a kind of respite. If that’s the case, then, I could see my return to work tomorrow as a different kind of vacation—a sort of vacation from my vacation. If so, I should be delighted to start up again…and I would be, if it weren’t so much work.