Editor's note: Living in Houston is like being perpetually in that game of "avoid the lava" you played as a child, except for that everyfuckingwhere is the lava.
6:35 a.m.: It's nice-ish out — like, 80 degrees! Is it time? Could this be it?
7:41 a.m.: *Pull into Starbucks* I don't know, am I pushing it? I don't want to jump the gun here. Can you get it iced? Is that a thing?
7:42 am.: Fuck that. You cannot and will not get an iced PSL. I refuse to let you dictate my coffee choices or my life, weather! I won't hear it, and I won't respond to it.
7:45 a.m.: Boldly and with (post-work-out, sweaty underboob) chest high: "I would like a tall Pumpkin Spice Latte, please. And also ... a banana." I have no regrets. No, the banana is not plan B.
8:00 a.m.: *to the two girlfriends I'm with, both of whom rejected the PSL in favor of boring regular coffee* "Smell it." (The latte. Don't be gross.)
8:01 a.m.: ZOMG. It's just as I remembered, only velvetier. I think I need more knits.
8:12 a.m.: Back at the ranch. I think it's time for boots, maybe! Where are all my tunics? Leggings can you holler?
8:15 a.m.: What does my boyfriend mean 'what's a tunic?' It's my uniform for FALL, bitch. It's not technically Fall, you say? Well! I had a PSL this morning. So .... take that .... Moon.
8:25 a.m.: I've got to nuke this thing. Definitely better warm. What was I thinking?! WHY DID I NOT GET A VENTI.
8:30 a.m.: Do I even own any tunics? This turtle necked, short-sleeve dress will work. That's practical, yet fall-appropriate in case the temperature spikes.
8:32 a.m.: Who makes a short-sleeved turtleneck? This is stupid. This is the dress equivalent of a fur vest.
8:35 a.m.: Oh, hey fur vest. I know, I shouldn't throw stones. I'm sorry.
8:36 a.m.: Is... it fur vest time?
8:36 - 8:42 a.m.: *Ponders fur vest*
8:43 a.m.: NO. No, no no. Booties, jeans, top, light cardi. Pull yourself together, CHRIST.
*Sip, and scene.*