Fall! Fall! Fall!
You probably all know by now that I am totally pretentious, so when I see people quote things like, "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers" everywhere (Instagram captions, Pinterest prints, fall-craft-decor) I get weirdly defensive. I feel like that particular quote maybe belongs to me. (I know man. It's irrational.)
First I think, "You probably don't even know anything about Anne Shirley," and I revel in my sure knowledge that no one loves Anne like I do. (How could they?)
Then, I think "You probably don't even like fall as much as I do." Because how could anyone love fall as much as I do? When I sit down to the very important task of ranking months by how much I love them (A task I take to pretty regularly, because I know how to use my time in a valuable way,) October is always, always firmly at the top. (Followed closely by April and December. And then November. And then June. Okay. You get it.)
(February, obviously, is dead last.)
Sorry. Moving on.
Anyway. The gist of this psychotic rant is this:
I am so glad that I live in a world where there are Octobers.
Because October is that month when, no matter what, everything looks like this: