This is the time of year when people I know start to do some serious planning.
Living in Ontario, Canada, does have its perks. One of them is that almost everyone either has or knows someone else who has a cottage. My hometown is surrounded by hundreds of lakes in either direction, so the option to get away from it all and still end up in a different spot every time is actually favorable. Lakes in this area are relatively unpolluted; the only health concern is bites from those pesky mosquitos or sunburn.
Knowing a lot of people who have cottages, I've come to realize that most are alike:
The same boathouse is filled with innertube tires, bright yellow rope, and floating toys. There are rows of fishing gear, many different sizes of orange lifejackets, and lots of wood stacked nearby for impromptu campfires. Often there are rows of coolers lining the floors of the boathouses, filled with melting ice and bottles of Canadian beer. Outside, there is always a game of croquet going on in the afternoons, and early evening card games like Euchre or Asshole. The radio is always cranked to a classic rock station where tunes by David Wilcox or The Tragically Hip are in constant rotation. Inside, the kitchen fridge is filled with packages of weiners, bacon, and sasauge, and on top of the fridge there are stacks of hamburger and hotdog buns. The freezer holds icecream and freezies for the kids, and more ice for mixed drinks. That's it. The bathroom has a large shelf reserved for the tens of toothbrushes, and a sign on the wall near the toilet that says 'the outhouse is for poos.' Nobody showers inside except for the wusses. Everyone else cleans off in the lake.
The lake. The lake is clean and cold. From sun up to sundown, it is where most people are at. Innertubes are pulled from the boat house and linked together with yellow rope. PDFs are worn by those who secure a tube, beer is quietly tied to a small cooler and the linked tubes are launched, each with a person wearing sunscreen and little else. The day is spent lazily floating. The nights are spent telling stories, singing songs, and getting silly.
I've been carrying my datebook around, in burning anticipation.