A long time ago, when summers came without a job, mortgage or other real-world responsibilities, the months of June and July seemed to be heaven-sent. There were, admittedly, farm chores to shoulder, hay to haul and a lawn to mow, but those were trifling interruptions in what seemed to be an endless string of carefree days.
It's been during weeks like these that I miss those summers and long to roll back the years.