Thinking that a caramel apple sounds nice, buying a caramel apple, taking a bite of a caramel apple, and then spending the next week at the dentist getting all of your fillings replaced.
Antarctica in a few years, at this rate.
What Jeff in I.T. apparently thinks of as Argyle season.
A very nostalgic time for sheep.
Snag-your-sleeve-on-a-hook-and-now-your-ninety-eight-dollar-Anthropologie-sweater-has-a-gaping-hole weather.
The moment when your rain boots and your flip-flops cross paths on your shoe rack long enough for a shoe high-five.
The precursor to “fighting-about-holiday-Starbucks-cups-with-Jeff weather.”
When it’s raining cats and dogs, but the cats and dogs are on your sweater eating pumpkins and nobody else seems perplexed by this design decision.
Like one of those dreams in which you show up at school wearing only a knitted beanie.
An almost-rhyme, but not quite.
Cuddling by the fire and thinking that it’s awfully hot under your lover’s arm but you don’t want to be weird about it, so you just offer up a little prayer to the deodorant gods.
When your torso feels like a cat’s tongue: warm but slightly scratchy.
What it’s doing outside when you take up knitting but you learn only how to make scarves, so you just make one long one and wrap it around the top half of your body.
The time of year when some peeping is acceptable.
The time of year to remind Jeff that peeping at leaves is acceptable.
When an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but five apple ciders a day is actually a little bit too much sugar, and you might want to consider slowing down, and also have you had your annual flu shot yet?
How it feels when you wear a wool sweater vest to work and then realize that you should have worn another shirt underneath it.
An Instagram influencer’s peak earnings season.
An excuse for a delightful thrifting jaunt to collect seasonal staples that you wear twice and that then take up half your drawer space for the rest of the year.
High of sixty-seven degrees, low of fifty-two degrees.