When I was still in school, the start of summer vacation felt like hitting the jackpot. And like many lottery winners we would often end up squandering our prizes. The thought of a long string of endless days with nothing to do and no wake up calls had us daydreaming from the first warm day of Spring. But by mid-August a strange sort of feeling permeated everything. As an adult I'd call it ennui, but back then the first summer it happened, felt like an early foray into adult emotions. A strange sort of realization that a seemingly endless supply of what you wanted wasn't always so great. In our little town, with not that much to do, you could only ride your bike so many times over the same quiet suburban streets under buzzing power lines, play so many games of 21, and watch so many reruns of Gilligan's Island before your thoughts drifted towards the first day of class and the almost sacrilegious thought (never said out loud) that going back to school wouldn't be so bad. Humans crave what they don't have and if they get a little bit of it they want a little more. But if they get too much a strange sort of malaise sets in (why are all the words associated with disappointment French, anyway?) So you learn that early. But then you forget and seemingly have to learn it again every summer of your life.