I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not, but when I like something I tend to do it over and over. It makes me very predictable, but I’m okay with that, because I’m routinely doing happy things.

I love Halloween because 1) I cling to childishness, 2) I get to dress funny, and 3) it means my house if full of candy bars.

I already know how the day will go. I’ve prepared a schedule:
7:30am: Wake up.
9:30am: Wake up again. Late. Shit!
11:00am: Go outside to replace burned out porch light. Drop new bulb from six-foot ladder. It was the last one in the box. Go to store.
11:45am: Return from store. It’s time for lunch. Discover I don’t have any form of food besides pumpkins. Go back to store.
1:00pm: Carve pumpkins. Pop seeds into the oven to roast for a snack, even though they never turn out any good.
1:30pm: Set out trick-or-treat candy. Discover there are only six pieces left. Go back to store.
2:45pm: Return to discover kitchen full of smoke. Pumpkin seeds on fire. Dammit! Set billowing, charred cookie sheet outside.
3:00pm: Answer phone. It’s next-door neighbor, who thinks my back door is on fire. “Didn’t that happen last year too?” I tell him to shut up.
4:30pm: Try on costume. Discover I can’t see out of the mask. Walk head-on into edge of open bathroom door.
5:00pm: Regain consciousness on bathroom floor. Where am I? Who am I? Look down at myself and deduce that I am Beaker from the Muppet Show.
5:30pm: It is time for kids to come trick-or-treating. It is time for shot of tequila. Tequila bottle has only three drops in it.
5:31pm: Another trip to store interrupted by doorbell. “Trick or treat!” Hand out candy. Ask kids if any of them has tequila. One does. He won’t share it.
5:35pm: Swearing, rush back to store, leaving peel-out marks on the driveway. Stop to apologize to neighbor for nearly running over his six-year-old at end of driveway. Promise to replace flattened jack-o-lantern bucket.
6:00pm: Candy handing-outing now fully underway. Kids’ costumes are great, near as I can tell, because knot on my forehead is giving me double-vision.
6:30pm: Another shot of tequila. Double vision cancels out. Neighbor kids complaining that I’m not scary enough. Pull off Beaker mask, revealing purple knot on head. They run screaming.
7:00pm: Find original Frankenstein movie on TV.
8:00pm: Older kids start showing up at the door. They are all football players and hobos. They all optimistically hold open pillowcases. Decide to stop answering door and keep candy for myself, because, hey—at least I dressed up.
8:10pm: Crash into bathroom door again. Not wearing mask. Vow to lay off the tequila.
8:15pm: Head to Mick’s for Halloween party. Car honk reminds me to take off my Beaker mask. Discover I’m driving on the wrong side of the street. Now who’s scary?

1:30am: Happy. Exhausted. Sugar-buzzed. Wide awake.

7:30am: Wake up.
9:30am: Wake up again. Late. Shit!

Is it November yet? It is? Excellent.