There’s something about late autumn that feels like a whispered dare - a quiet, smoky challenge to slow down when everything in you still wants to sprint. The air gets crisp, the light thins, and the trees - ever the overachievers - start shedding what no longer serves them like it’s no big deal. Meanwhile, I’m over here arguing with my planner about “productivity” and trying to convince myself that reoganizing the spice cabinet counts as self-care. Classic people-pleaser-me