Oh, my goodness gracious. It's been a heck of a month. I think I have decided that, although my birthday does happen in here, along with Father's Day, I officially hate June.

I tend to blame the month itself for the horrible happenings. I don't feel that this is an irrational choice at all. I also hate April, because when I was younger, all of my dogs died in April and I had a couple of major illnesses that occurred in that month. So, yeah. April equals bad. Period, for now and forever. Here's why June has now joined April:

1. June is hot. Always. Also this year, for some reason, it's not cooling down as quickly at night, plus we now have a leather couch in our TV room, which also has the crappiest ventilation of any room in our house, so yeah. Sweaty time. Not a fan.

2. June is when people end up in the hospital. Or, at least me and now my husband. I'm home now, he's home now, but still. June is another sick month for us. Don't like it.

3. June is when everyone goes on vacation. This means less students and therefore less money, and also, usually, more time at the office, covering for people who are going off to have fun. Other people aren't allowed to have fun if I'm not having any. It is lame and totally inappropriate.

4. June contains my birthday. Therefore, every June I become magically older and wrinklier. Not enjoying that action so much. Also, it's just a lovely reminder of how fun birthdays used to be, before I grew up and became officially un-fun.

5. It is now June and I am in a horrible mood. There you go. It has to be the June's fault. It couldn't possibly be my attitude, because, as we all know, I am awesome and hilarious. Therefore, June.

There you go. I feel that this list is very scientific and should be considered completely factual. Not merely a list of my opinions, because I have totally researched things and stuff.

Things. And stuff.

It's official.