As I write this, it is 1:12 p.m. on July 31, which means that in ten hours and 48 minutes, it will be August. I know this because my mom told me that there are 30 days in September, April, June, and November, and that all the rest have 31, except for February, because … I forget the rest.
The point: Tomorrow is August.
Damn. Did you know that? Because I didn’t — until just now, of course, when I realized it, and then told you. Anyway, I haven’t left my house all week, except on Tuesday, (or maybe it was Wednesday?) to get a COVID-19 test. The woman administering it jabbed a long Q-tip up my nose for what felt like an unnecessarily long time, but it was actually just five seconds. (I know this because she counted: one, two, three, four, five.) She then told me I would get my results in three to ten days, which also seemed like a long amount of time, but I guess if it’s just three days, then maybe it’s not. Depends on your bar for functioning public health. After one (or maybe two) days passed, I decided to look at a calendar, and that’s when I discovered that tomorrow is, in fact, August.
What does it mean that tomorrow is August? It means that today is the last day of July, a month that means nothing to anyone unless it’s their birthday, and sunrise marks the beginning of the end of summer.
Summer! We hardly knew her. But it’s okay, because now we know tomorrow is August — say it with me, TOMORROW IS AUGUST! — we can spend the remaining ten hours and 14 minutes of July figuring how how to safely enjoy the rest of summer, which technically ends on September 22, which might as well be next year.