Way Down Below The Stars

With the below +20 C temperatures being establishing at 45°30’ northern latitude and 73°40’ western longitude the Autumn Spirit have arrived a bit early this year. The sweater-weather lovers rejoice to hear the cracking of dry leaves under their feet and tires of their bicycles, the nigth rides accompanied by chill wind smell of burnt leaves, and the puffy-tailed squirrels accelerate their run to find and hide as many used muffin papers as they can, looking something like this:
The Spirit, that in my day-dreamy world appears as a melancholically ironic and mildly transparent lady walking around the dark alleys and parks in slight confusion. Some fear her, some desire, some envy. She can easily do things we cannot even imagine, travel the realms that she unknowingly creates. Now I catch myself staring at the black board, like the ram at the new gates, while the professor is going on about the electrical fields; I don't understand any of this, so ride off to smell, see, and hear, all this spiced with a hint of guilt of missing another class.
Some time ago, I have observed a trend, that whenever I say that I'll never do a certain thing, this very thing seems to be doomed to happen. Any person who knows me, also knows my unappeasable hatred for tomatoes. It is easier to make me quit smoking cold turkey rather than make me eat a tomatoe, even if it is integrated in a sandwich. Well, behold! Recent experiments demonstrated, that integrated tomatoes are actually consumable. With awe I await the moment, when my restless experimenting mind will push me to try an unintegrated tomatoe.
Unfortunantly, before I realised the destructive spellpower of the word "never," I've made a bunch of hasty statements, one among which was that I shall never marry. Unsuspectingly and singlehandedly, I forged and placed a sword in the hands of Nemesis. However, the Great Creatures of the North *bows three times* have sent an omen, that the strike may be escaped...