Next Year

So it's summer, and it has just begun. But I'm foolishly awaiting "next year." This time is the suspension between last year and this year, which is terribly exciting, and since the previous year, and all its woes, have been sealed away, I can give free reign to my hopes about next year. If it was actually "next year" now, I would likely be stressed and panicked. But so it is. I'm stupid.