Summer whipping past

Nothing ever makes summer last long enough here in the Northeast. It’s the one time of year when there’s just too much too do and not enough time to do it all in. All the concerts, shows, activities, attractions, and general frivolity are essentially packed into July and August, and on Labor Day we shut the whole fun factory down and crawl back into our shells for another 10 months. Luckily, some of my fun is actually better in the shoulder months — the depths of summer aren’t necessarily the best biking or canoeing weather, if you’re a sun-avoider like me — but the weather gets iffier and the likelihood of a weekend of rain much higher. So it’s always about this time that I feel a great big sigh for the end of summer (and personally, having had weeks off in the spring, I had less summer than usual, by a lot) and wish there were a lot more of it. Am I stupid to fight the lure of more temperate climes (where, in fairness, they spend much of the summer huddled around air conditioning, and precious little of the winter bombing down ski slopes)? Maybe better I should focus on setting myself for a future where my presence isn’t really required by anyone from, say, May to September. Or December to March, for that matter. ‘Cause if I weren’t wanted (financially or otherwise), I could sure spend a whole lot more time out doing those things that make it all worthwhile.