I'm no longer dreaming of failure: last night's dreams had pirates! Unfortunately they had a surprisingly thorough human resources department, and I was still interviewing with them when I woke up.

I have been exhausted these past few days, at least in part because now that we've turned off the air conditioner and opened all the windows, I can hear that one cricket in our backyard that chirps 24/7. My ears are absolutely convinced that it's nighttime, all the time.

The breeze from the window is worth it though. At this time of the year I always feel like I haven't been outside enough, whereas in June I'm usually all "I don't want to read on the deck because the wasps are everywhere out there."

(There are about a dozen wasp nests in our backyard, in the shed mostly, and so far I've been too afraid of getting stung to deal with them all. Yesterday when I was gardening I thought a dragonfly had landed right next to me, but it turned out to be the biggest, blackest wasp I've ever seen.)

Part of me can't wait until fall, that most underrated of seasons, but another part of me wonders how many days of sandal season I have left before I have to go back to wearing socks. And why I haven't cooked out and played frisbee golf on every single sunny day.

I know that the mere fact of sunshine doesn't entail any particular recreational obligations, but I've seen this place in January. In January, I'll feel like I wasted all this warmth and greenery.

Luckily, January is still an eternity away, just numbers on a calendar. Here in August, I can still say, "who knows what I'll be doing next year, who knows where I'll be?" and mean it. There could be beaches, or a desert, five months from now.