Today would

appear to be the most perfect sort of fall day that there can be. For posterity, I shall elucidate.

The foliage is now more than 50% converted, with just a few trees bare. There is a low haze around the horizon that fades to a perfect blue above, and there's enough humidity in the air to make it inviting and warm instead of barren and cold. The air is crisp and cool enough to make a sweater a good idea, but the sun still warms your face and shoulders. I even slept in and feel well rested.

There are all sorts of things that could go horribly wrong today, of course, this being a cruel and indifferent universe. I know that the very foundations of the luxuries I enjoy today are unraveling, and that years hence this sort of simple pleasure will seem like a silly waste of time. There is such monsterous injustice in this world that it seems criminal for me to sit here in a climate-controlled bakery and sip a cappuccino and watch the season turn.

Maybe it will mean something later on. For now, at this moment, today is the perfect sort of day.