My eyes roll at about 200 mph when one of my peachy-keen peers raves about how much he or she loves the warm weather, how much they missed summer and how the rain and cold damp their sun-tanned demeanor. I, for one, impatiently wait until about mid-November when the humidity subsides and winter, for lack of a better term, embraces us.

I rarely brave the outdoors during the summer. I don’t really understand people who bake themselves under the summer sun. Of course, coming from someone with an undying love for daytime T.V. and a vitamin D deficiency, this may not come off as a surprise.

During the summer I have the incessant need to fling off my clothes the second I step outside into the blistering heat. I feel like my clothing pastes to my pasty skin and I need an ice bath. Winter brings about the acute opportunity to pile on all the layers possible, which I enjoy.

I long for a state where the changes in weather are evident by solid, concrete seasons. When the leaves discolor and carpet the streets or snow blankets a field. I picture quaint, Norman Rockwell-esq New England towns that look more like a snow globe and less like Mansfield. In Texas I get to look at brown grass and on-again off-again cold— the kind that has me wearing my bulkiest sweater one minute and sweating bullets the next. Instead of snow I get sludge that instigates the worst drivers to glide down the highway at a glacial pace as if Hurricane Sandy hit hard.

With the weather slowly but surely turning colder, I feel hopeful, like I should be gleefully roasting marshmallows from my fireplace like it’s an ABC Family original movie. All rosy cheeks and pumpkin pie. But I shouldn’t be too hopeful. I know that as soon as I can bust out an umbrella and brave the October drizzle the clouds will part and it will be August all over again.

Although my disdain for the lack of magic or snowflakes in the air proves apparent, the little winter-y attributes Texans does have has me bundling on all my sweaters and putting on A Charlie Brown Christmas a month before its social acceptability. I want to buy scented pinecones in bulk. I want to see my breath in the air. I want unnecessary amounts of Starbucks hot chocolate. And I’m still waiting for the opportunity.