You were wrong about Christmas.

The most wonderful time of the year isn’t Christmas, everyone. (Did you realize you were wrong about that all these years?) No, the most wonderful time of the year is fall.

Not Halloween, specifically, because I’m at that awkward age where I can’t quite figure out how to celebrate it: I don’t have the option of trick-or-treating door to door anymore without raising my neighborhood’s collective eyebrow, and I don’t yet have children to be my pawn so that I can live out that night to the fullest (“Trick or treat! Oh, thank you, Mister, but little Tommy doesn’t like Tootsie Rolls. He would like to know if you have any Godiva 70% Pure Cacoa bars? If not, he will just settle for a Snickers. King-sized, please.”) So it seems the only choice I have is to celebrate by attending adult Halloween parties, which terrify me. An adult Halloween party is really just a drunken over-grown orgy at this point, and orgies are just plain exhausting! I mean, who has time for that, AMIRIGHT, fellow cool people? (Was that convincing? Lemme know.) Plus, I’m just weird and I like to wear my bra and panties UNDER my clothes, instead of like, as an outfit for a Halloween party. Yeah, I know, LOOOO-SER. So, not collecting candy from strangers and not really fitting in at adult Halloween parties leaves that night feeling very anticlimatic for me. Also, I don’t mean Thanksgiving specifically either, because on Thanksgiving I always insist on seeing how close I can come to having to get my stomach pumped. It’s like I black out and eat my weight in pie and then when I finally come to I am pretty sure I should kill myself but instead just manuever myself into the fetal position and quietly weep. So, that kind of puts a damper on the night.

But fall in general? I think it’s glorious. That’s probably due to the fact that I have a hearty obsession with pumpkins. Pumpkin candles, pumpkin coffees, pumpkin breads, pumpkin wreaths, pumpkin patches, PUMPKINS. I went to Trader Joe’s yesterday and stocked up on my yearly pumpkin supply, not remembering that I now have a walking disposal system; a four-legged monster of destruction who inhales anything and everything in her path and never looks back. So, yeah, those voluptuous orange beauties don’t stand a chance.


I’m really enjoying the 72 hours I’ll have with my new fall decor, y’all.


One thought on “You were wrong about Christmas.

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