September, A Haiku

September has come
Hectic, everything begins
There’s no space to breathe

It seems like this is an annual tradition, but I really dislike the month of September. As soon as the calendar flips it’s as someone activated ludicrous speed on my life, and I’ve gone plaid 1. Every natural inclination to breathe — to take my time and explore possibilities — is sucked from my lungs. Leaving me exhausted. This year my wife and I have some added social events, all of which are really good things, but it adds to the burden of the month. I need time alone.

So how do I muddle through? In two ways.

First, there is the hope of October 2. I’ll take Mondays 3 in October to do some long-neglected walking. My camera will come with me, and life will be good. I also like to take a “mental health” day in October and travel to a near-by historic site. This year I may head out to visit the Paoli Battlefield, or explore some more areas of Valley Forge.

Second, even during breath-sucking September there are times when I dig my feet into the ground and declare, “Enough!” When I take this posture I don’t care how many tasks I have on my plate, messages I have from people trying to contact me, or if I have a pile of laundry on my side of the bed I need to fold and put away 4. In those moments I don’t care – I close my eyes to it all and read a book, play a game, watch a show, or write my own stuff. Yes, this creates some further time-compression, but it amazes me how tossing burdens to the wind for a few hours makes them easier to carry even when there is less actual time to get everything accomplished.

The wave of September is crashing. Soon enough I’ll come up for air.

  1. Watch Spaceballs, you’ll get it. 
  2. Really, September 25. But it’s close enough. 
  3. Or Fridays, my day off may switch. 
  4. I’d actually like to do laundry, but it’s my wife’s therapy. Also, the way she does it I’d need a doctorate to figure it out. So I fold my own and put it away. Sometimes I try to fold her laundry as well, this is not my best impulse. In 20 years of marriage I’ve also not managed to solve how she likes towels folded. It’s a major mental block.