Yes, I know. The first day of fall isn’t until the end of the month. But really, it’s Tuesday. The summer always dies after Labor Day, for me at least.

I must be solar powered or something, because the departure of summer leaves me in shambles. I can’t bear to think that the next day off from work is – because I’m neither a teacher nor a banker – Thanksgiving. Did you just vomit? I did.

Maybe if I could hibernate, life would be better. I just can’t deal with the pending crap we Buffalonians deal with for more than half of the year.

Am I complaining too much? Maybe. But I’m sure many of you feel the same way.

So now that I brought this up, let’s vow not to think about it. And to drink. A lot.