I woke up tired this morning. After battling with my cat to let me sleep a few minutes longer (he won the battle, as he so often does), I got up and realized that this is the perfect day to begin the Pumpkin Spice Latte project. It is fall, and the PSL has finally returned to us, and despite the fact that it is both overcast and humid, it is time to begin.

I got off the bus one stop early, and dropped by the Starbucks nearest my office. I ordered the infamous drink, fumbled around for a while trying to find one of those things that protects your hand, and took a deep breath, bracing myself at the door for what was to come. Of course, there was no crisp, refreshing autumn air, only the miserable dampness that we sometimes get in San Francisco, but as I took my first sip, I finally realized what I was in for.

The Pumpkin Spice Latte:

• Is not very hot
• Takes like bitter chemicals
• Reminds me of all my favourite pumpkin beers from back in New England, with their delectable cinnamon rims
• Is evidently bright orange (as I discovered after spilling it on my hand slightly later)

You will note that none of these are pros; thus the elision of the list header. Actually, (3) might sound to some like a pro, but it is in fact merely making the experience even worse — a sick reminder of what was and what never will be again, wrapped up in this lukewarm travesty of a drink.

The Pumpkin Spice Latte challenge, of course, is as follows: This season, I have resolved to drink Pumpkin Spice Lattes until I like them. If this does not happen, I will probably allow myself to admit defeat after somewhere around 20 of them. Pray that day does not arrive.

And so, here I sit, sipping my disgusting, four dollar, not-very-hot chemical monstrosity, wolfing down an extra ~300 calories of breakfast, forsaking my beloved Diet Coke, and all, dear reader, for you.