Somehow, this doesn’t make any sense to me. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know what happened in these last 8 months or so that ended up with me turning in my rent yesterday with the date October 1st on it.
And the real joke is that it is still summer hot here in Los Angeles. It doesn’t at all feel like sweaters and boots. It feels like bikinis and rosé. It feels like AC blasting all night long as you sleep on top of all the sheets. And kicking your dog off the end of the bed because she is just radiating heat all over your feet. And not letting your husband even touch you because it is just –
too. damn. hot.
So while I’m yearning for all those fall colors, glasses of heavy red wines, scarves, thick socks, and cuddling to keep warm – I’ll settle with toes in the sand, listening to Tom Petty and Lou Reed and the waves crashing against the rocky sand. I’ll settle with driving almost an hour to a beach where I can watch my dog run like a mad woman into the ocean. I’ll settle with a few more cold glasses of white wine before I switch for good over to red.
But come on, fall. You’re really my favorite of the seasons.
…Now I have to admit, between starting and finishing this post I have turned the fan directly on me and found a new artist (Johnnyswim? Liking them.) who has a Christmas EP…
It’s October 2nd, 81 degrees out, and I’m adding to my Christmas playlist. Lord help me.