The forecast this week is basically a dumpster fire, and I am having exactly NONE of it. Do you know what day it is? September SEVENTEENTH. This month is more than halfway over, and the high today is 95 degrees.

NINETY-FIVE degrees of sweaty pain and misery.

I should be wearing cardigans and boots and jumping into piles of leaves instead of cranking my A/C down to 62 and drying every time I dare set foot outside of my chilled sanctuary.



One of my friends made this insta post over the weekend of her in boots and a hat at this party where they had a firepit and it was like 65 degrees outside. Now, she is a Yankee and lives in Massachusetts, but still. If she gets fall, I want fall!

I want to wear leggings and watch Hocus Pocus and have to pull my jacket closer when I step outside because the air is crisp and cool. I want to go to pumpkin patches and sip hot cider and make everything smell like apple pie.

I just want fall, and I want it now. WHIINNNEEEE.


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