Everybody’s talking about the first day of fall as if it’s a good thing. Not me though– I hate the end of summer. I’m already feeling nostalgic for long days and trips to the beach. To me, fall means cold weather, it means that I can’t wear the stupid muscle tee I bought on a whim, that my favorite hot-weather hairdo will look out of place and that my go-to distressed jeans will result in freezing knees. To soften my preemptive seasonal depression I spent all of Sunday in my favorite park, reminding myself that worst comes to worst, sunshine is only a plane ride away.