Last night was a sad sight. After all my preparation, all my high hopes, all my dare-to-dream moments of picturing the adorable children lined up for Reese's and Smarties, I sat alone on the couch eating fun pack after fun pack of Skittles.
We did not have ONE stinking trick or treater, you heard me right,folks. Not even a teenager without a real costume and carrying around a paper bag in an effort to get "sucker candy." Now, take a moments and let's rewind to my childhood. We lived down a very long and dark driveway in the country. AKA- no one ever came to trick or treat at our house. In Texas, we always went somewhere for Halloween, so this is the first opportunity for being grown-up, traditional, Norman Rockwellish trick-or-treating venue. Okay, now fast-forward to 2007. Adam and I are so excited as we finally live in a residential neighborhood. We anticipate throngs or families and we'll sit and admire the creativity of the costumes and have jolly conversations with our neighbors.
Who knows- perhaps, it was the incredibly steep hill, maybe the poorly-lit street, maybe the rumor thats spreading that we lure children into our cottage and then fatten them up and eat them! Its most likely that every child went to the other side of Cherry Street where the high-rollers live and probably give out King-Size Snicker bars. Regardless of the reason, Powers and I sat on the window ledge, gazing out, long after Adam "No Faith" Jennings gave up on the trick-or-treaters and went to study in his office. Which brings us back to me, sitting on the couch eating fun-size packs of Skittles, looking disbelievingly out into the empty yard. Am sad, old spinstress- only happy and married.
Ah, there are much worse things in the world than being stuck with 7 lbs. of candy and gaining 100 lbs. I'm over it.