The word of the day is Fall

Fall is here, which means everyone feels obligated to talk to me about things that I hate. Specifically, cold weather and football. 'Aren't you glad its finally getting cold?' and 'Don't you think that the UT linebackers should have blah blah blah blah blah?'
Well I can answer both of those questions with the same response: I hate you, stop talking to me. It is with a heavy heart that I put away my flip flops, and give up hope of having football-free conversations. Just like bears hole up and hibernate for the winter, so I turn my brain to auto-pilot, and dust off phrases like 'he just lost his focus out there.' That way, when a conversation about football erupts I can tune out, and think about something happy like what kind of flip flops I can buy next year, and when someone says something to me like, 'so what'd you think of the vols last week?' I just whip out the trusty old 'he just lost his focus out there.'

It's not fool-proof mind you. There have been conversations where my 'lost his focus' comment was matched with something like- 'but we won sixty to zero.' Now, in this situation, some people would simply admit to hating football and silence their eager conversation partner. But I will not stoop to such levels. When I admit to hating football, people give me the same look that I give people who claim they 'don't read.' Here's what it looks like: eyebrows furrowed together, head tilted slightly as though to suggest that surely you have heard the person incorrectly. Basically, its a person telling you, nonverbally, that your opinion is rooted solely in ignorance and could not possibly be justified. For this reason, I keep my opinions about football to myself, and suffer silently through the fall.

Unfortunately, the only people who don't want to talk to you about football want to talk about something equally mind-numbing: leaves. 'Were going to have a nice fall because of all the rain we had this year.' People prattle to me nonsensically. 'Last year we didn't have nice fall because of the drout through June and July, but this year...' The speaker of these words is rendered speechless with shock when I kick them swiftly in the knees. I know the leaves change color, and I will even admit that its pretty, but for God's sake I don't need to talk about it fifty times a day.

Like anything else in life, surviving fall for me is all about attitude. I try to focus on the parts of fall that I do like: Sam Adams Octoberfest, new season of Project Runway, and boxed wine (it tastes especially crisp during the fall. I think it has to do with the boxing process). I will tough the season out, holed up with my box of wine, and praying the Vols don't make the postseason, or the playoffs, or whatever you call it.