There are brown leaves on the sidewalk in front of my office now. They weren't there yesterday, and definitely not there last week. Three seconds of dorkishly pleasing leaf kicking were all I had before I felt the icy chill of realization: these are autumn leaves. AUTUMN LEAVES, people!
Behold the crunchy specter of doom to your right.
Do you know what this means? It means walking through a slate-gray Central Park at noon and crying. It means simultaneously sweating and shivering under a wool coat. Dragging the laundry cart through ankle-deep puddles of slush. Enduring crappy Mexican and Chilean produce. Getting shocked by static electricity whenever you touch the cat. Six hours of sunlight a day. Flat hair. Chapped lips. Swine flu. Wind chill!
At least I have cute boots.
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