Oh, summertime, you wench.
In the first weeks, you're cheerful. Playful. Agreeable. Then you get more complex. You get demanding, but you're easily bought off. Going out for ice cream, a trip to the park, a new swing.
But the longer I spend with you, the harder it becomes to make you happy. How about a day of cooking together? Or maybe a day trip to the shore? Ooooh. Nice. But -- sadly, even these things have faults. Too hot. Too sandy. Too boring.
Finally, at the end, you get downright bitchy.
This is boring. You're stupid. I hate this.
Then, detente. I ignore you, you ignore me. We wait it out. It'll be over soon. We nod politely when we pass in the hallway. We complain bitterly about each other to ourselves.
We'll see how long I can keep this up.