I’m Fangry

I’m fangry. In fact, this is14925403_1829202370624681_9133056398365006827_n the worst case of fangry I’ve ever had and it’s really ticking me off. To pile on to my misery there is absolutely nothing I can do to alleviate or eliminate it besides getting an attitude adjustment and I’m going to tell you straight up that’s not going to happen. My fangry is too intense and all-consuming.

You see I’m suffering from Fall Angry known as “fangry” which is classified as a seasonal affective disorder. My fangry was brought on by the non-fall like temperatures that have robbed, yes robbed, me from enjoying my favorite season. I feel totally ripped off that we have had almost zero autumnal yumminess.

The fall should herald and embrace the 3 C’s – cool, crisp and cuddly. All we’ve gotten is Summer 2.0 and it reeks. As I write this I’m in a tank top and shorts in freaking November. And for all of you thinking “yay, high-five, this is so great” slow your roll because it’s none of the above.

Fall in the Midwest is a thing of glory. It’s God’s gift for enduring summer. It’s everything you want from a season. The temperatures drop, the humidity takes a holiday and goes to visit Texas, and you’re free, free at last, from the constant hum of your air conditioner. It’s a time to throw open your windows and let your neighbors hear you yell at your kids to rake the leaves.

You also get to mercifully cover up your arms and legs and swathe yourself in cozy sweaters that then allow you to eat loads of pumpkin cinnamon rolls because no one’s going to notice your fat layers in an “on trend” oversize chunky cable knit.

Fall is the season that gives you a hug and whispers, “It’s all going to be okay I’m here now.”

Except it’s not here and I’m ready to issue an APB. I’m not kidding. This is serious. Do you know what’s happening right now because fall has forsaken us or been abducted?

Let me answer that for you in no particular order of importance. My craving for pumpkin pie and/or bread is non-existent. For the first time in years I didn’t even buy a pumpkin candle from Bath and Bodyworks. Who in the hell wants to smell pumpkin when they’re sweating?

I still have all my begonias blooming and it just looks odd – begonias in November. If I wanted begonias in November I would live in Disneyland. (Not that I don’t love Disneyland, but 365 of the Magic Kingdom would be not so magical.)

My trees have barely lost any leaves, which means that in December, in the midst of all the holiday havoc, I’ll be doing hard time in the yard. Like I need raking leaves and bagging leaves  on my “to do” list.

Oh and Halloween was weird. Trick-or-treaters in shorts and flip-flops – ugh. It’s unseemly that’s what it was.

And two more words for you – oak mites. Those jerks, along with assorted gnats and flies, are still around ruining my life because we haven’t even gotten close to a hard freeze.

Then to turbo kick my fangry into Defcon 5 I’m being told that this weather trend probably means we’re going to have a mild winter and then record-breaking summer heat. Noooo!

That terrifying prognostication reminds me that I need to do a public service announcement. To everyone out there, most especially folks who broadcast the weather or coo the time and temp, it’s heartless of you to say in November, in the Midwest, that “it’s a beautiful 84 degrees out.” There is nothing the least bit attractive about running your A.C. in November.

The correct verbiage to use, in an effort to be sensitive to fangry sufferers everywhere, is that, “It’s 84 degrees and I’m sorry, very sorry.”