Today I feel secretly dead. In the past few days I have done such productive things as: mop the porch, clean out the rotting foodstuffs in one of our kitchen drawers, finish my poetry portfolio for the fall, apply for a job, drop off my dry cleaning finally, finish the first of two outstanding essays for spring term, and get groceries. It smells a little like fall today, and as I swung down off the porch, bicycle held above my head, I felt a little like going back to school. Going back to the hum-drum days of class and homework, just to get away from the hum-drum days of doing nothing and spending whole days being entirely idle, reminding oneself that things have been accomplished in the past few, so one can lie in bed in front of a fan being snarky on the Internet all day.

The rain this morning made it smell like fall, I think, and though it’s warmer now that I’ve woken up from my nap, it was a bunch of remembering all coming rushing back. And a bunch of hope. This is the way Ann Arbor is, about three or four weeks before a drastic change (summer to school year, fall semester to winter semester, school year to summer) – everyone is holding their breath. Plans are being laid out. We still partake in the activities of the period we’re living in, but we get so excited about the next one that sometimes it’s hard to.

I wonder if the seasons are a little too long, like that extra month (we waste about three every year doing this) is something that should be tacked onto some exciting, non-existent fourth season. I don’t feel like this phenomenon happens anywhere else. It certainly never has to me: never at home growing up, or at summer camp, or on road trips with my mom. I wonder if it’s just kids in Ann Arbor who feel this way. I have to say I have never lived on another college campus, so maybe that’s what it is. Or maybe it is peculiar to Ann Arbor, the way everyone here is an exquisitely bad driver.

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