In theory, I love Halloween. The mixture of fall decorations, cute costumes, and low humidity is right up my alley. On the flip side, there’s an influx of slutty costumes that spit in the face of modern feminism, a bit too much cold, rainy weather (like today) and the fact that I have to spend money buying candy for the beggar children.
This month, I made a commitment to spend less money in general, which is why I’m not jazzed about the fact that I dropped $10 on 5 bags of candy at the grocery store last night.
I have no idea if I’ll get many trick-or-treaters at the new apartment, but I would certainly hate to be unprepared and have to turn off my lights at 6:00 and hide in the bathroom lest I get egged for not spending my hard-earned money on proliferating diabetes and obesity in today’s youth.
There’s also a chance that I may not be home on Friday night, because I have a handful of friends who are doing stuff that night, and I might want to join them. If I’m not home to give away candy, I have all that stuff sitting in the house, tempting me during the month of November. I suppose I could donate it to a charity, but that just doesn’t feel as altruistic as offering up goods that are not just empty calories, so if I do that, I’ll end up spending about $20 on canned goods in addition to the chocolate so I don’t feel so sheepish when I donate.
When I was a kid, I was a determined little trick-or-treater, and I’m sure I picked up more than $10 worth of candy each year, and that’s in 1980s dollars. So maybe this is just the case of what comes around going around, but I still can’t shake that annoyed feeling about the candy purchase. I probably should have kept my wallet in my pocked and printed out a “no candy at this residence” signs that the convicted sex offenders have. That would be assurance I’d be left alone not just Friday night, but for the rest of the time I live at this apartment.
