I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees.

This summer has been one of packing and unpacking, of quart-sized Ziploc bags and tiny plastic cups. This has been a summer of restlessness. My career, obviously, has been the major culprit, but I blame the weather as well, this summer’s ridiculous, ridiculously oppressive heat. I’m still not sure how any of us survived. Seriously.

I spent the summer both sticky and cranky, the one by no means helping the other. I spent the summer raging against machines (most notably the air conditioner, which also spent the summer both sticky and cranky), raging against globalization, raging against the dying of the light. This summer there was not a shadow I did not fight, and though I am painfully aware of the futility of throwing punches at butterflies, sometimes I can’t help but come out swinging, blindly, with malice aforethought.

Actually, that’s not true at all; I just like the way it sounds.

This summer I traveled, sipped cocktails, spent leisurely hours with friends both near and far. This summer I counted the days until just one remained, this one right here in fact, the one that will find me packing once more. And truth be told (for once), I can’t wait to get from here to there.