Today was one of those absolutely gorgeous fall days that you’d like to capture in a Mason jar, tuck away in a closet and break out sometime in February when the ceiling and floor have become indistinguishable from one another.

The sun was out, the wind was manageable and the temperature crested just short of the 80s. Herself and I celebrated with a ponderous American breakfast — eggs over easy, pan-fried Yukon Gold spuds, bacon, toast and coffee — followed by a ride to work it all off.

This won’t last, of course. The National Weather Service is predicting a repeat tomorrow, but it all goes south after that, toward a “high” of 43 with a slight chance of rain and/or snow come Saturday, when I have to be indoors working anyway. Oh, well.

Tomorrow brings The Great Debate that neither side claims to be capable of winning (keep those expectations low, fellas; the rest of us certainly are). I’m unloading all the firearms and keeping the smokepoles upstairs but moving the ammo downstairs. TVs are expensive and we don’t want to frighten the neighbors. The ceaseless, volcanic profanity and hurling of beer bottles through windows that have not been opened will be bad enough.

And be glad you’re not driving I-25 through Denver during the debate. ‘Cause you won’t be able to.