The past few mornings, I have barely felt capable of waking up. I’ve actually gotten a few decent nights of sleep, so that really shouldn’t be the case, but I sometimes think I function better on my usual two hours than I do on six to eight.
Like I do with everything around this time of year, I blame the impending change of the seasons. I have the end of summer blues.
Not that it’s not still warm enough to feel like summer, and not that I don’t have a trip to the sweltering hot Oklahoma prairies coming up this weekend. Those things are all good.
It is still technically summer after all.
But it happens the same way every year. Around the middle of August people start flipping their shit over OMGFALL!!!!! and it just annoys me to all hell.
But, as I’m doing with my football team this year, I’ve decided to avoid getting pissy about it and emit and aura of faux positivity.
This year, I will not bash the pumpkin spice lattes. I will not lament the difficulty involved in layering. I won’t whine about the cold, dry air ruining my skin and hair. I won’t complain about the stress and complications surrounding the holidays.
Instead, I will focus on the things I’m excited about.
Like the fact that football does indeed start this Saturday. The real football. NFL still rides the backseat for me.
I’m also thrilled that in a few weeks, I’ll be able to arrive at work after my metro ride not dripping with sweat.
I have plans to visit the Chesapeake Bay, tour some Maryland vineyards, and finally check out Mount Vernon in the crisp, Fall air (which will hopefully be devoid of rain).
In early October, I’m going to Boston for the first time to see some of my favorite people ever.
I’ve also decided that have a Horror Fest all October long, watching nothing but scary movies whenever possible. Scary movies are my favorite.
And when I think of it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad.
I may continue to wear shorts, hot pink and sandals until the last of my tan fades away and the temperature refuses to rise above 50 degrees.
I may continue eating salads and put off making soup, just out of principle.
I may shed a few tears during Daylight Savings.
But I will not let that bastard Fall get me down this year.
And, for those that really know me, I will also refrain from even once ranting about my disapproval of Bob Stoops. Really, I’m not going to do it.
I’ve turned over a new, bright red Fall leaf of positivity.
Even if it is as fake as those disgusting pumpkin lattes taste.