I keep having this bad dream where I get up in the morning, thinking about all the things I'd like to do on a pleasant day in May, when Steve interrupts my thoughts with a question about Father's Day. Oh, that's next month, I think as I casually stroll over to look at the calendar in the kitchen. Suddenly the soundtrack to my dream is all shrieking violins as I read "June" at the top of the calendar. I wail "June!" in horror, then bite my knuckles in fear. The fine May morning withers into a puddle of heat, humidity, and sweat, weeds suddenly take over my garden, and hordes of mosquitoes and flies buzz into the room.
This vignette is followed by a weird montage of scenes from "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and "The Wizard of Oz," only Oscar is Toto, Ally is an Oompa Loompa, and Steve is the Wizard. Somehow I'm a cross between Veruca Salt and the Scarecrow.
And if that doesn't make any sense, neither does the fact that it's June 15 today.