Today marks the beginning of August.
I hate August.
During August, the oppressive Houston summer is at its worst. The heat and humidity combine to create a climate that is truly unbearable. August is also when hurricane activity begins to pick up; in fact, some of the nation's most devastating hurricanes appear in August, including Andrew in 1992 and Katrina last year. There's something brewing out in the Atlantic right now, as a matter of fact.
August is also boring. There are no major holidays during this month; no events that make the month otherwise special or noteworthy. Just about every other month has a holiday or other event associated with it: February has Valentine's Day, July has Independence Day, October has Halloween. April is associated with the beginning of spring; September is associated with the beginning of fall. August is associated with, well, nothing. To me, the only thing noteworthy about August is my son's birthday. Kirby will be two years old on the 21st. Otherwise, the month of August represents little more to me than thirty-one days of hot, boring, droning summer.
And of course, the wait for my favorite sport, college football, is especially agonizing during August, precisely because it's so close to the start of the season. Although I'm trying not to get too excited about the upcoming Cougar football campaign, I'm nevertheless ready for it to start simply because it's just four weeks away.
Yep. I hate August.
I've hated August ever since I was a kid, because its arrival meant that summer vacation was quickly coming to an end. Of course, when I was a kid we didn't have to go back to school until the last week of August. These days, kids have to head back to class in mid-August. So kids today might hate August even more than I do.
Which would say something, considering how much I hate August. Ugh.