It's been a difficult few days here - and not just because of my weekly confusion about "Sunday" and "Someday."  I'm referring, of course, to the sudden death of Summer on Friday (which I used to confuse with "Tuesday" but now just point at and nod whenever anybody asks me to identify it).

I never like to see a season just up and die on me.  I always feel as if I might be to blame.  Like I forgot to feed it or something.  That's why I always keep an extra bag of All-Season Chow on hand.  Just in case anyone ever comes along and charges me with being unable to keep time.  Now, when anyone comes along and accuses me of being unable to keep time, I just point and nod at my bag of All-Season Chow and smile smugly to myself until they go away.

I went to Summer's funeral on Saturday.  I generally don't like funerals, since they tend to remind me of death and all, but it seems I can never resist going in the end because they're such great places to scope out the babes.  

Summer's funeral was very tastefully done, in case you're curious.  A simple, open casket affair - which wasn't nearly as morbid as you might think since someone had thoughtfully thought to place Summer's favorite cloud over Summer's most obvious dead parts.  If only that casket hadn't been as big as all the great outdoors, I might have gotten home in time to write up an account of my last few days before now.  As it was, it took 1733 pallbearers the last several days just to get the damn thing out the door of the funeral home.  And THEN it took another three pallbearers several hours to determine that there simply was no way it was ever gonna fit in the hearse no matter how much air we let out of the tires.  In the end we decided to just leave the casket on October's porch, ring the bell, and run.

The human mind can learn things in the darnedest places, and Summer's funeral was no exception.  My personal human mind learned, for example, that this particular Summer had run from June 21 straight through to September 22 - which might explain why it died.  I mean, I think I'm gonna die when I merely run from the TV to the kitchen and back; I can't imagine what it must be like to chug along for 3 months without a break while simultaneously growing crops, scorching deserts, and getting the hurricane season underway.  Personally, I think I'd call in sick and give July and August the number of a good temp agency.

Another thing I learned is that this Summer had a Living Will.  It gave explicit instructions that no extraordinary measures were to be taken to extend its life.  I thought that was real cute and progressive until I got home tonight and discovered that my furnace had been disconnected and sent overseas to sustain a poor Third World heat wave.

Among the other things I learned:

-----  If you don't smoke already, it's probably not a good idea to try to learn how while someone is attempting to give a eulogy

-----  "Want to come back to my house and see my autumnal equinox?" is not as sure-fire a pick-up line as you might think

-----  One of the differences between good eulogies and bad eulogies is that the people who give the good eulogies tend not to have mouths full of cheese

-----  "They're the same length all over the world today so you might as well quit looking" can be misinterpreted by some as a sign of desperation and by others as an excuse to administer a sharp slap

-----  October's doorbell can be really hard to find when you're cranky and winded

There's more I could say - much, much more - but I'm afraid I'm getting all choked up.

Seems sharp slaps to the face can result in a slow swelling of the flesh which eventually interferes with one's ability to breathe....
 

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(©Now by Dan Birtcher using the hand that's not still bitter over the fact
that it's attached to me instead of to Señor Wences)

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