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.

Why?

WHY CAN'T IT BE FALL ALREADY?

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.