I hate pumpkin spice anything. Can I keep my White Girl Card (TM)?

…I meant to start writing—or at least outlining—ten minutes ago. But I got distracted because the mini blinds in one of my living room windows was hanging crookedly and I couldn’t un-notice it no matter how hard I tried. (I swear un-noticing is a thing). I fiddled and tweaked and fiddled some more before I got it right.

Anywho.

Confession: I deeply and vehemently dislike pumpkin-flavored things. [Pausing for a moment in case I happen to be struck dead for admitting such a thing. No? Sweet.] It’s the quintessential Fall flavor and no me gusta. I won’t eat pumpkin pie unless someone I love very much made it and is totally emotionally invested in my consumption of said pie. Which I think means they might not love ME very much if they keep pressing icky-textured gourd pie on me. But I digress.

Do I love my grandmothers enough for this?
Do I love my grandmothers enough for this?

My instagram is completely bereft of fuzzy, filtered shots of a starbucks cup with those three coveted letters scrawled on the side. No “PSL” for this white girl. I figure I have enough shots of artistically arranged dinner plates, candles, and triumphal winged eyeliner selfies to make up for that, though.

Quick shout into the void:

pumpkin via pixabay.

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