August is by far the worst month of the year. I've thought this every August of my existence, and I started saying it out loud at least twenty years ago. Some people like to remind me of some "positive" things about this month (like the birthdays that fall in August), expecting me to retract my statement, but I never do. My own birthday is in March, and I'm not that fond of that month either. August birthdays are fine, and I bet some fun partying happens when those birthdays come along, but all I can think of is those who have gone before me and given birth in August and my hatred is reinforced on their behalf. Why do I hate August so much, you ask? Because it's so...August. There are very few redeeming qualities about August; in fact, I'm having trouble thinking of one. Well, school supply shopping can be fun. For me, August has always marked the end of life-giving things like vacation and breathable air. August in New York ...