I love Halloween because 1) I cling to childish things, 2) I get to dress funny, and 3) it means my house is full of candy bars.
I hope with my many years of experience, the whole day will go smoothly. Last year didn’t, so much. It went something like this:
7:30am: Wake up.
9:30am: Wake up again. I’m late. Shit!
11:00am: Go outside to replace burned out porch light. Drop new bulb from six-foot ladder. It was the last bulb in the box. Go to store.
11:45am: Return from store. It’s time for lunch. Discover I don’t have anything to eat but 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 are on fire. Dammit! Put billowing, charred cookie sheet ouside on the back porch.
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 staring at the ceiling. Where am I? Who am I? Look down at myself and deduce that I am someone from Sesame Street.
5:30pm: It is time for kids to come trick-or-treating, which means 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 part with 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. Seems like more kids than usual because knot on my forehead is giving me double-vision.
6:30pm: Another shot of tequila. Double vision cancels itself out. Neighbor kids complain that I’m not scary enough. Pull off Beaker mask, revealing giant purple knotted 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. Swear off the tequila.
8:15pm: Head to Halloween party. Car honk reminds me to take off my Beaker mask. Discover I’m driving on the wrong side of the street. Definitely scary.
9:30am: Wake up again. I’m late. Shit!
11:00am: Go outside to replace burned out porch light. Drop new bulb from six-foot ladder. It was the last bulb in the box. Go to store.
11:45am: Return from store. It’s time for lunch. Discover I don’t have anything to eat but 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 are on fire. Dammit! Put billowing, charred cookie sheet ouside on the back porch.
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 staring at the ceiling. Where am I? Who am I? Look down at myself and deduce that I am someone from Sesame Street.
5:30pm: It is time for kids to come trick-or-treating, which means 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 part with 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. Seems like more kids than usual because knot on my forehead is giving me double-vision.
6:30pm: Another shot of tequila. Double vision cancels itself out. Neighbor kids complain that I’m not scary enough. Pull off Beaker mask, revealing giant purple knotted 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. Swear off the tequila.
8:15pm: Head to Halloween party. Car honk reminds me to take off my Beaker mask. Discover I’m driving on the wrong side of the street. Definitely scary.
1:30am: Happy. Exhausted. Sugar-buzzed. Wide awake.
7:30am: Wake up.
9:30am: Wake up again. Late. Shit!
9:40am: Look at naked self in mirror. Either I ate too much candy or I got knocked up overnight. With Halloween, you never know.
So—hello, November.
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