Why I love fall.

I’m having a rough day. I’m in a terrible mood, and I have no good reason to be. I feel like I’m PMS-ing, even though I’m not, and I started to wonder if I’m already PSS-ing. “PSS,” of course, standing for Pre-September Syndrome.

September has not been kind to me the past few years. It’s a cruel joke that I start to panic when the month is approaching, because September also signifies the shift into fall – aka my favorite time of year. Last night, I said I was thrilled summer was almost over and my friend was appalled, but I truly meant it. I hate summer. I love fall. And this is why:

  • Cool weather. I live for days with a high of 60.
  • Sweatshirts.
  • Leather jackets. Both on me and on men.
  • Pumpkin flavored everything. Lattes. Beer. Bread. Pie. BRING ALL OF IT TO ME.
  • Football.
  • Fantasy football.
  • Chili.
  • Soup.
  • Boots.
  • Not having to shave my legs every day.
  • Not having to turn on my A/C unit.
  • Big, comfy sweaters.
  • Scarves.
  • Leaves.
  • Taking a nap on a Saturday afternoon with college football on the television and a cool breeze blowing in through an open window.
  • Hockey.
  • The return of my favorite television shows.
  • Not having to drink white wine because it’s too hot for red wine anymore.
  • Candy corn.
  • Thanksgiving.

So I’m going to concentrate on those things this week to pull me out of my funk, rather than the impending sense of doom I’ll feel when I turn my calendar over. Bring it, September. I’m ready this year.


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