I hate summer. There, I said it. Ever since I graduated college, summer has just been masquerading as a really hot vacation. The city stinks, everybody else is on vacation and I can’t physically go outside without sweating like a pig. An unpopular opinion, I know, but I don’t care. Give me the fall, give me bitter cold, give me anything but ungodly humidity and eau d’hot wet garbage. This weekend marks the end of the summer, socially at least, and I couldn’t be happier. Pack it up, summer, I want you gone.
Like most Americans, you are probably heading away to savor those last few sunny days. So pack yourself up well, to the beat of Eliza Doolittle and, of course, a weekender.