On Brain Aneurysms, Grizzly Bears, Dust, and Gilbert Gottfried: the Composition That is My End-of-Summer Brain.

We've all heard it enough since Labor Day:  summer is over for the year 2012 (my god, I'm opening with a ray of sunshine, huh?), at least here in the Northern Hemisphere.  And though we officially have a few more weeks according to the calendar, the magic is totally gone.  Belly-up.  Gone-zo.  So, with the kids back to school, it's back to talking to my dogs or myself during the day.  And thinking about lots of weird things.  Here are a few of them that have been knocking around in all that empty space in my brain for the past week:

• Maggots are freaking scary.  Way worse than snakes, spiders, grizzly bears (even when they have that big snarly turned-up nose thing going on) and what have you.  Why?  Well, besides being all gross and squirmy and able to move across surfaces at an alarming speed (!), I now have first-hand knowledge that they are pretty damned resistant to straight bleach.  It doesn't even seem to begin to phase them for a good 20 minutes.  Blech.  I'm not happy about the fact that I was able to discover that tidbit, nor am I happy that I'm the person who gets to deal with the outdoor trash cans.  Hint, hint, Jay.

Not nearly as scary as those nasty little buggers.

• Blue jays are the Gilbert Gottfrieds of the avian world.   Loud.  And annoying.  And yet there still remains a certain appeal that makes you say, "I guess they're not that bad." (That may be a "just me" thing.)  I can't believe I just admitted that.

• If I were to suffer from some life threatening event, say, ohhh, a brain aneurysm, while Jay and the kids were watching Doctor Who, I'd be toast.  Never mind that I wouldn't be discovered until somebody came looking for whatever the next meal may be and instead found me lying in a heap of rigor mortis somewhere.
• As much as I try to make it work, dust just doesn't cut it as an addition to our house's decor.  Thicker and denser is not a plus.  
• There has yet to be a product put on the market that truly makes dusting our house's decor not pure torture for me.  Swiffer ads LIE.
• And finally, has Shirtless Running Guy been told by an informant that there's a crazy blogging lady who can't stop writing about him?  I wonder.  He made major eye contact with me a couple of weeks back.  Almost accusing.  I think I've got a giant case of covert picture-taking guilt. 

And so it's back to the grind of school and work and eventually extremely short days resulting in Seasonal Affective Disorder in just about everything that moves.  Time to embrace one's pasty, white, winterized self.  Know it.  Love it.  Ignore it.  A brand-sparkly-new summer will be here before you can say tan-in-a-can.