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