Dear Summer,

I've had about enough of you.

July 2016 was Earth's hottest month ever recorded. You heard me. Ever. Was that really necessary?

I really need to move on, Summer, and I'd like you to do the same. Don't drag it out. Let's just get on with it.

You're just not doing it for me anymore. These hundred degree days are just too much. My skin burns at the thought of you. I dread having to go outside, because I know you and your evil little buddy The Sun are there and ready to burn me. (Tell that jerk he's up past his bedtime.) I shouldn't have to apply sunscreen for a 5 minute trip to the store, Summer.

I'm ready to move on to winter. At this point, I'm even prepared to skip the fall stage. I'm just not a summer person, Summer. I can't do this anymore. I have wants. I have needs.

I want to reunite with my favorite hoodie, and wear it so often that people will wonder if it has fused to my skin.

I want to wear my warm, fuzzy, fleece pajamas again.

I want to be bake and be grateful for the heat, instead of buying pre-made food to avoid turning the house into a sauna in hell.

I want winter food. Do you know what it's like to crave soup when it's a hundred and five degrees out? Do you?!

I want to take a hot shower with steam so thick, I can't find the shampoo bottle.

I want the rush of a last minute trip to the grocery store and standing in a crowded line right before a snowstorm. Everyone bundled up and dripping with melted snow and clutching loaves of bread and gallons of milk they probably don't really need.

I want to get snowed in. But just for a day or two. I'm not a complete hermit. Yet.

I want to lie in bed in warm pajamas with a good book and not worry about having to go anywhere.

I want to hear kids playing in the snow and having the time of their lives. Just kidding. Pipe down, you little maggots.

I want to take snow pictures. Snow falling. Snow covering my car. Snow plows building a wall at the end of my driveway, which prevent anyone from visiting. No unexpected visitors on snow days!

By the time February rolls around and the novelty of snow has worn off and I'm tired of aching from the cold, I will start to lie on the couch and watch summer movies. This is when I will think of you.

Don't get too excited. You and I both know I'll miss you when you're gone. It happens every year. When I get you back, I'll be happy. For like a week. For that one happy week, things are great. And then your temperature starts rising. And rising. And rising.

We'll always have the memories, Summer. I'll even be happy when you return next year. But right now, it'S FREAKING HOT AND OH MY GOD YOU NEED TO CHILL.