I Hate Summer Quotes

“I am sure I have summer depression; the heat makes me instantly regret being alive.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“Someone made a grievous mistake when summer was created; no novitiate or god in their right mind would make a season akin to hell on purpose.

Someone should be fired.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“Books are an absolute necessity. I always have at least two with me wherever I go, to say nothing of my digital collection, and whenever I can get my hands on a delicious new reading piece, I will finish it at a slackened pace, to savour it with all the esteem it deserves, gratulating in its pleasance, deliciating in every word with ardent affection. I have an extensive library that I could never do without, and there are at least four books decorating every surface in my house. A table is not properly set without a book to furnish it. Half of my great collection is non-fiction, mostly science and history books, ranging from the archaeological to the agricultural, and my fiction section is dedicated to the classics, mostly books published before the world forgot about exquisite prose. I have all the greats in hardcover, but I do not read those: hardcover is for smelling and touching only. For all my favourite authors, I have reading copies, which I might take with me anywhere, to read in cafes or to be used as a swatting tool for unwanted visitors, but books are always fashionable even as ornaments; everyone likes a reader, for a good collection of books betrays a intellectualism that is becoming at anytime. Never succumb to the friable wills of those who reject the majesty of books: there is nothing so repelling as willful illiteracy.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“Why are you wailing away? What is the matter with you?”
“I was playing and—“ and her lip quivered as she spoke, “—and it was cloudy, and then—“ a sniff, “—and then, as I was playing, the sun came out.”
I gave her a flat look. “You’re crying because the sun came out?”
“Yes,” she moped, wiping the tears from her eyes, “the sun came out, and now—“ she heaved, “—and now, it’s hot! I don’t like it when it’s hot. Being hot is dumb!”
I immediately absolved her of all previous sins. I slumped over the sill and gave her as much sympathy as my now warm face allowed. “Yes, child, being hot is very dumb indeed. Very well, you have a reason for crying. But then why are you outside?”
“Because it was too hot inside and mommy won’t let me have ice cream.”
“Well, there is your problem. You must get an air conditioner and a new mother.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“In my body’s effort to conserve itself, rather than attempt any movement outside, I have begun eating more sugar than is good for me. Sugar, while a comfort to many, is a detriment to those with my various physical complaints, and even a spoonful could plunge me into violent agony. It is a pleasurable agony, at least, and in my depression and desperation to have anything that resembled nutrition, I ate half a jar of chocolate spread. I know I should not buy these things. I seldom give in to such cibarious cagmaggery, even when it is On Sale, but when summer is imminent, I will do anything to feel better, including eat something that will make me regret my folly.

I am currently crippled on the floor and awaiting death, or I am lately dead and have taught my undead form to use a keyboard, I cannot tell which. I am no longer hot, however, and there is some comfort, whether I am dead or alive. I would rather be alive, I think, if only to buy more chocolate spread.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“There are two gradations of cold that are always acceptable: Mild Frost, which is preferable for reading and writing and any other activity done indoors, and Absolute Zero, which is the only temperature suitable for sleep. There is nothing more delicious than being swathed in a cocoon of blankets and awaking with a nose frosted over with rime, and once I do achieve vampiric heights and fall asleep with the mastery of a corpse lately dead, I am best left alone until I wake up at my usual time. I do tend to bite when rattled out of my flocculent coffin, and everyone in my building knows never to disturb me during the early morning hours. Authors, being crepuscular creatures, should never be roused before 11am: the creative mind is never turned off; it only dies momentarily and its revived by the scent of coffee at the proper time.

Bacon is also an acceptable restorative.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“My face is rather like a collision waiting to happen: head-on I can be borne, but turn sideways, and it is all calamity.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“It is 32c today, and the only thing keeping me from hanging myself is the small sense of relief I
glean from attaching my body to the vents of my delicious cooling piece. It is a stunning unit,
exquisite in all its forms, exceptional in its application, and effective in all its functions. I would
marry it, if only I knew it would not die on me sometime within the next five years. Appliances,
like obedient children or silent extroverts, cannot last forever, and while my unbidden affection
kept my other air conditioner alive for the better part of ten years, not all inanimate objects can
be fueled by my love.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“I am heartily glad that the trees and plants are still interested in copulatory activities; I only wish
they would be so good as to keep their sperm away from my face. Do not pretend that pollen is
anything else; it transfers haploid male genetic material and sullies the bedclothes unmercifully.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“Everyone is a raconteur without realizing it. We speak to our friends, we speak to our doctors and therapists about the nothing-meaning nonsense that goes on in our lives, but the difference in telling a story and complaining about the ills of one’s life is in the delivery. We can talk about how someone slighted you at work, or we can talk about how that person looked when they promptly fell down the stairs a moment after disdaining you. There, you see, is the difference: people will often notice the main but not the nuance; they will notice the face of the person yelling at them and the pitch of their shouts, but will not notice the comfort that the ululations of agony and twisted limbs lying on the bottom stile can promise.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“In my desperation to try to lull myself into a gentle sloom, I have created a list of things that will often assist my descent into delicious treacle-sleep. The list includes a series of things I can do if I go to bed and wake up early, and includes things like playing games and reading books, but one item that continually seems to work is telling myself:

The faster I go to sleep, the faster I can have cookies for breakfast.

This idea might seem rudimentary, but it staves off the sulks long enough that I can find a few hours of sleep, even on the hottest of days. If only Biscuit Power worked for other insomniacs, cookies might save humanity from itself.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“It is 32c today, and the only thing keeping me from hanging myself is the small sense of relief I glean from attaching my body to the vents of my delicious cooling piece. It is a stunning unit, exquisite in all its forms, exceptional in its application, and effective in all its functions. I would marry it, if only I knew it would not die on me sometime within the next five years. Appliances, like obedient children or silent extroverts, cannot last forever, and while my unbidden affection kept my other air conditioner alive for the better part of ten years, not all inanimate objects can be fueled by my love.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“My doctor has given me as strong an antihistamine as she is allowed to prescribe, but even that does nothing for the itching and swelling. The moment a grain of pollen enters the keep, I begin to tomato, and after two minutes of being exposed to the Ejaculateum Arboratoeaea, I am lying on the ground with my tongue lolling out of the side of my mouth.
I am heartily glad that the trees and plants are still interested in copulatory activities; I only wish they would be so good as to keep their sperm away from my face. Do not pretend that pollen is anything else; it transfers haploid male genetic material and sullies the bedclothes unmercifully.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.