Autumn Paradise

I've always had this romanticized idea of the country pumpkin patch and corn maze. It seemed like a good idea. Picking out your own pumpkin from acres and acres of farm land while sipping mulled cider sounds like an Autumn paradise.

Sometimes I try to convince myself that I like the outdoors.

Silly me.
The great outdoors has mud, wind, rain, wet and complaining children and acres and acres of mishapen and rotting pumpkins.
I much prefer picking out a pumpkin from a giant box of bruised gourds outside of Albertsons.