Every year we await the coming gift of September, the promise of summer weather minus the crowds. Each year, we yearn for temps to drop a few degrees. We look forward to glorious weekdays on the empty beach and hanging at a favorite spot that’s got a line out the door all summer. Business owners relish days of steady patronage and a chance to chat with customers, relieved of August’s pressures.

This year, I’m already calling September, or Local Summer, or whatever, a giant pile of horse crap.