This is how I’d spend the perfect autumn day: I wake up next to a warm fireplace in a log cabin, slowing emerging from cozy flannel sheets. The hardwood floor is cool to the touch, but I walk to the bathroom on fluffy bearskin rugs. I brush my teeth and sit down to a delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, and freshly baked pumpkin bread. After a brisk run by the lake during which I admire the changing colors of the leaves, I take a nice long shower, wash my hair with pumpkin spice shampoo, and then read a mystery novel while sitting on a rocking chair on the porch wrapped in Pendleton blankets.
Around lunchtime, my next-door neighbor Michael Fassbender comes over to borrow a screwdriver. He got soaked in a flash rainstorm on his way over and had to take off his drenched flannel shirt. We sit out by the lake, sipping piping hot pumpkin tea and playfully throwing candy corn into each other’s mouths. Canadian geese fly overhead, their calls echoing over the water. As the sun sets, the blush sky complements the fiery orange and red leaves of the forest. Off to the side, Bob Ross paints the landscape, his gentle voice narrating the scene. We give him a glass of pumpkin wine and together we toast to the beauty of nature.
As the air grows cooler, Bob Ross packs up his canvas and heads home while Michael and I sit around the fire pit, watching embers spark and drift into the night. Pumpkin beer keeps us toasty inside, and we wiggle our toes in our toasty warm socks knit from the wool of the alpacas on the farm next door. The light of the fire illuminates a snowy owl perched on a tree nearby.
Suddenly, we hear a loud noise. We run to see what it is and find Katy Perry’s tour bus broken down on the old dirt road by the farm. We invite her and her crew of lithe dancers to join us at the cabin, and it turns into the most amazing party ever. We dance all night in the moonlight and eat pumpkin pie that Katy tops off with her whipped cream bra. As the sun begins to rise, I cuddle up in a cozy quilt with a pumpkin-colored kitten purring on my lap and relive the perfect day in my memories.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 