It used to really bite

August isn't my favourite month. Or wasn't. I used to go on and on about its downsides, its ugly insides, the way it drags you outside and down the same damn road every time. Every August I swore I'd write a book filled with its storms and horseflies and humidity. But the book never happened. And this year August feels different. Older maybe. Not as hot. Not exactly saggy, but definitely not taut. Relaxed maybe. The horseflies land on your leg and just sort of sit there.