“Three guys at once? That’s a nightmare. That is literally a recurring stress dream that I have. I can only think of jobs for two. Oh, no, I got it.”

I am a summer girl. I generally bid summer ado with sadness and regret, looking forward only to the next year. Even though we’re still having 100 degree days, and the nights aren’t really cooling off, (77 in my opened up house when I got up this morning, 83 by 10am when I begrudgingly turned on the AC.) I’ve noticed summer slipping away. It’s the sun. Where it is normally bright white and glaring, for the last couple of weeks it has faded to a yellow when we go out to play no matter the time of day. The heat is still there, it’s the color that is different I swear it. This time I am looking forward to the changing of the seasons, plans we have made for the fall are exciting. I do hope it doesn’t get too cold and rainy too fast. Usually it’s warm right up until the week before Halloween, insuring all the girls who bought the sluttiest costumes they could find will freeze their asses off come the holiday. It entertains me. However this has not been a year of usual weather, I don’t think summer actually started until July, so who knows what will happen. I will be wearing my Designated Driver costume as per usual. (My normal clothes.) One year when I worked one of the kids asked me what I was going to be for Halloween, I told her; “Extremely poor group home staff.” Her response? “You can’t be that for Halloween! That’s what you are everyday!!” She wasn’t wrong. I remembered recently a couple of years ago a pretend friend, (J thinks that all of you are figments of my imagination, or someone out to steal my identity and rob us blind. Good luck with that.) was doing prompts. I had forgotten I’d contributated to a few of them, I did enjoy it. One of the prompts was Autumn is….. There were many beautifully written entries, speaking of rich color changes, warm crunchy Thanksgiving feelings, and then there was mine. *sigh* Reposted for your enjoyment. Autumn is……. Autumn is my 3rd drink of the night. Let's say the drinks are screwdrivers. In pint glasses. Beer and wine not quite strong enough for this metaphor, and long islands would require this to end at the hospital; not my goal. So, vodka, oj, ice. Will do nicely. The first drink (spring) is a celebration of the end of your extended period of sobriety however long or short it may have been. It is the the foundation of the evening, laying the ground work. I'm happy to be out and drinking, as opposed to being happy that I'm drunk already. Excited about what's to come, socializing, good company. I'm buzzing nicely, but I am able to carry on conversation without seeming like a complete idiot, and am more inclined to get to know my fellow bar attendees. It's nice, but it's a quiet nice, sometimes I have to stop there, but the night is more fun when I can continue on.... The second drink (summer) is where it's at. Being the cheap date that I am, I'm pretty well sloshed at the end of this one. But it's a wonderful, free, dancing and talking sloshed. My cheeks are warm, I can join the smokers outside without my teeth chattering. This is my happy place. This is where I should end the evening. I should be satisified here, take the good (warmth, sunshine, vitamin D, tans, cute clothes, long days) with the bad, (sunburns, dehydration, people whining; "It's so hot, when will it cool down?") and just be happy. But sometimes, I order another... The third drink (autumn!) is taking things too far. I wanted to extend my time out, the fun to be had, but really, my third drink should have been water. I make less sense, will probably trip over something, eyes will be rolled in my direction. I have to pee every five seconds, and there's always a line. I'm not horrible, but it's certainly not as fun as drink two. I continued on and now I am sad I have to say good bye to the carefree evening that I will remember, and say hello to what will come filled with trepidation. Because of course, if I ordered drink three, four will follow.... The fourth drink (winter) should be avoided at all costs. There will be blurry periods of time, or things that I remember much too clearly. I will stumble home. I will lay in bed, look up at the ceiling and think, "Huh, the swirlys are very bad tonight." and that will be the end of it all. The next hour or two will be spent in the bathroom, on the floor in front of the toilet. My husband, sweet man, will knock on the door, "Are you ok? Do you need help?" Ahhh!!! Help?!! No way. This is the least attractive I will ever be in my entire life, (except maybe when I was blowing out my 'gine during child birth) and it does not require an audience. I can hold back my own hair. I will moan and groan, miserable, wishing for drink two, I will feel like complete SHIT tomorrow. But, it is the natural way of things. Time passes, seasons change. Next time I'll appreciate drink two more, make it last as long as I can. I tell myself this every time. *Guts update* Things are still going good. I managed to convince the Dr to give me an appointment for next week by incoherently babbling about who knows what. I’m not good at communication when I’m stressed. Then she said we’d make the next appointment for a month after that one and I had a heart attack and died. Well. Really I grunted at her and told the receptionist I’d make that appointment later. Hopefully she’ll forget about that nonsense and we can go back to two weeks for at least a couple more times. I’m not ready for that stretch so close to where we lost Little T.