Life is a highway

The road trip itch has been coming on for a while, right on time. It starts in March, when I'm about ready to kill myself if I see another flake of snow, then abates when we throw the clocks forward and the days are brighter and warmer. Summer arrives, and Fourth of July comes, and there are cookouts and daytrips and city excursions, and I'm perfectly happy right where I am. But then deep summer sets in, oppressive humidity, haze like the whole world's a dirty windshield, and I'm sitting in the office watching perfect beach days go by, and I'm totally unmotivated, and it's sliding into August and I know that summer's going to be over in a flash, and I can't think of anything but getting the fuck out of town. I want to pack a bag with tank tops and flip flops, stock up the car with CDs and snacks and maps, and go somewhere, anywhere. It pervades my thoughts. It makes me cranky. It refuses to go away.