Things I've Forgotten to Do This Summer, Which Is Now Over

It's August 3rd. Isn't that dumb? Summer's just...it's over, man.

(Apologies to my desert southwest readers, you are in the shit for another 3-5 months and I respect your struggle.)

I had plans! There were things to do! But it's August. It happened without my knowledge or permission. I care not for the insult. Mandy and I walked past a tree that was already dropping its leaves yesterday. Yes, it's from the drought conditions, but still. Here's just a brief list of things I meant to do this summer that are just shot to fucking shit now. Thanks a lot, calendar:

• Get my life together with the help of a spreadsheet, day planner, and impossible-to-meet expectations.
• Go to a Twins game.
• Go to a Lynx game.
• Go to a Lynx game and boo the living hell out of Sophie Cunningham.
• Visit a couple of those goofy outstate town festivals and write about them instead of having to make listicles like this one.
• Get washboard abs.
• Submit a lowball bid to refurbish the Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C., fuck it up completely, then blame vandals with big aquatic knife technology.
• Learn a trade, like plumbing or Instagram influencer who finds hidden gems like The Mall of America and airports.
• Perform fantasy football research before August. (I have failed at this for 30+ summers, it's kind of impressive.)
• Summer on the continent with the idle rich and other wealthy gadabouts. I was going to buy a cravat and get really into yacht terminology.
• Re-enact the movies National Treasure and National Treasure: Book of Secrets in my backyard with local squirrels.
• Sit ups.
• See a summer blockbuster (in the theater; we watched Obsession at home last weekend and holy shit I'm sorry to anyone who went on a date to that one).
• Attend a high-security wedding at Madison Square Garden for two of my best friends.
• Breathe clean outdoor air three days in a row.
• Bring mine enemies to heel.
• Consume a hard shell taco without worrying if this one had the rocket diarrhea lettuce.
• Avoid Angie Craig ads.
• Push ups.
• Develop a stupid, expensive, time-consuming hobby that ultimately ruins my enjoyment of said hobby. "Here, try some of my homemade ice cream that uses fresh cream from a small family dairy and ethically-sourced cacao and vanilla. I call the flavor Stupid Dumbface Bullcrap. It's delicious and I hate it more than life itself."
• Get a cooler nickname than Stu. Trying to seed "Cobra" and into the public consciousness but so far no luck.

That said, I did get a haircut.