It's fall here in Vermont.
Ok, I'm sure the Vermonters around me disagree. To them, it is summer. But seriously, the past two days have been at the very least brisk. I love fall, but I also tend to operate at a body temperature a few degrees below normal, so when it's a bit windy and 68-70 degrees or so, I'm nonetheless shivering and gunning for hot chocolate (which I managed to obtain yesterday, so no worries). I'm adoring the weather, generally speaking, except for the fact that it means that winter is likely just around the corner. Which is fine but, you know, really early.
On the bright side, it means I will have a chance to employ the sweaters I've been hoarding throughout the years in the South, knowing I will be able to use them again one day. And I can make soup and not feeel silly.
On the other hand, I'm cold. And it's August. Dad would say, "Put on another layer." To which I would reply, "I'm already wearing two."
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