Friday, November 01, 2002

Worst. Hallowe'en. Ever.

Here is a sumary of my activities last night.

Rush home at breakneck-speed so I don't disappoint the kiddies. Start getting excited. Set up pumpkin in window. Get dressed up, just because (hey, it's fricken' hallowe'en! When else can you wear a costume without feeling like a tool?). Move candy bowl downstairs.


Wait some more.

Let Stacey's sister out the back patio door, because she doesn't want to walk around the house. Trap skin of finger in between door and frame after slamming the sliding door hard. Nurse blood blister. Swear like a sailor.

Stacey makes trip out to post office, leaving me behind to man the door. Curse some more about throbbing finger.

Wait some more, now sitting in dark all by myself. Drink bottle of beer. Wonder why all the kids seem to be going to the significantly larger houses across the street and not to ours. Realize the fickle little buggers are going to the bigger houses because they think they have better candy. Shake fist at kids and fume quietly.

Doorbell rings. Deploy Popeye cigarettes to two kiddies with half-assed costumes. Tell kids not to smoke real cigarettes because they're bad for them.

Wait some more, still in dark all by myself. Drink another bottle of beer. Unable to keep from playing with blood blister, making it more sore.

Start feeling like tool for getting all dressed up, apparently for my own benefit alone. Decide to move pumpkin downstairs, because maybe kids aren't seeing it clearly-enough.

Further waiting. I am now out of beer. Decide to turn on lights and do something else, but can't watch TV because Friends and Survivor are taping. Consider leaving and locking house to go buy more beer. End up eating some candy and popcorn, instead. Regret decision.

Stacey returns, having had a good time going through haunted houses and doing some shopping with her sister--an hour has passed. It feels like 72 hours for me. After some begging, Stacey dresses up as gypsy to make me feel better. It helps.

More waiting still.

After one more doorbell ring, another round of Popeye cigarette deployment and more free health advice: give up on kids and watch taped survivor while gorging on more candy. Realize I haven't eaten dinner but feeling too down to do anything about it. Remove uncomfortable pieces of costume. Remove under-appreciated pumpkin from front step and place in garage. Eat more candy.

15 kids, several hours, two beers, half a bag of popcorn, and 17 empty candybar wrappers later, go to bed without watching any scary movies and with stomach full of chocolate.

I suppose it could have been worse. But I'm planning on not being home next Hallowe'en, I think.

And right now, this very moment, it's started snowing! It's a blizzard in downtown Ottawa!

Decide to buy more beer on my way home.


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