The Seasons' A Changin, and I Hate Your Guts

It is officially Fall in New England. And the kicker to me, is people are happy about it.

Leaves are changing from their summery greens to varying shades of reds, oranges and yellows. Mornings are met with frost on windshields and a crispness in the air where you can see your breathe as you exhale.

And I hate every minute of it.

Oh sure the leaves look pretty from a distance, but you know that that means people? Their dying. You sadistic people are traveling from hither and yon to walk and gawk at dead leaves. Yeah. That's a thrill. They fall to the ground in annoying fashion, leaving people to have to rake and make piles upon piles and leave in bags on their lawn.

Until it rains...then they stick to everything. Your tires, your shoes. You traipse them into every entry way from home to your car and to your office and you'll be finding them until next year. Awesome.

Then there is the necessity in changes of attire. No longer are the carefree tanks and sleevelessness of summer ok. No more flowing sundresses or flip-flops. No. Sure your staple jeans are still ok, but now you must stuff your poor feet into closed toed shoes, which will take weeks to get used to again, and after the callusing and blistering subside, maybe you won't feel like you're toes have been stuck in vices after an 8 hour work day.

And of course comes the layering. In the summer you feel svelte in your minimalist clothing. Its like you have nothing on, nothing to hide. You are as you are. But now, you are hidden under layers of clothing, looking unflattering and lumpy. Just what we need, lets add bulk to what may not need adding bulk to. Good plan.

Your once tanned and glowing skin has faded to a paler sallower version of its once dewy summer self, lending way for every blemish and imperfection to stand up and shout "Look at ME!!" You suddenly feel washed out and tired because now of course, the sun has decided to call it a day hours earlier, because it too has had it and wants to be done with the day already.

Fall then leads to winter. And winter and I clearly are not friends.

And mind you, Fall in New England is a creature in and of itself. Like a bipolar schizophrenic in a mental hospital. You never know who you're going to meet when you wake up in the morning. You could wake up to the comforts of a lovely 75 degree day or find yourself cowering under a Nor’easter and suddenly blanketed in snow. Ain't life grand.

The way I see it, every day should be a balmy, sunny, cloudless 80 degrees, not humid, because really, who's hair can handle that? It should only rain at night, so we don't have to deal with it and the plants get everything they need. It should only snow on Christmas Eve and then be gone the day after Christmas, as if some magical hairdryer melted it all away while we slept. Life would be perfect.

What is so wrong with this? And much like Veruca Salt, I want it NOW.