It's Halloween. Big Boo.
I am a total Halloween Scrooge, and I don't care who knows it.
Photo by Anthony22l
It's hard to pinpoint exactly when I stopped liking Halloween. It was enjoyable right up until I was in high school; I remember dressing up and going out with my friends, and having tons of fun. But then, somewhere along the way, I stopped liking it--the dressing up, the screeching kids, the incessant ringing of the doorbell during Malcom in the Middle. STAY OFF MY LAWN, YOU DAMN KIDS!
I guess I stopped liking Halloween once I was too old to beg for candy.
Back when we first lived together, my husband and I would put our dog out on the porch to discourage trick-or-treaters from interrupting us during the important tasks of smoking pot and eating all the fun-sized Snickers we picked up that afternoon. (PROTIP: A 90-pound yellow lab is a great trick-or-treater deterrent.) Over the years, we have consistently turned down invitations to Halloween parties, eschewing an evening of fun simply because of the association with Halloween. This year, we accepted an invitation to a Halloween party--a costume party. We were discussing potential costume ideas the other day and tried to figure out why we are so violently opposed to the entire process of celebrating Halloween as adults. Here is what we came up with.
We Hate Dressing Up
In spite of the fact that I love fashion and makeup and dressing up, I hate dressing up for Halloween. My husband is a bigger clotheshorse than I am, and he hates the whole Halloween costume thing, too. Why? We figured out that while it's quite fun to go into our closet and put outfits together, it's a whole other thing to plan an outfit in advance; to compete with people who love Halloween so much that they spend months planning their costumes. The party we are attending is about 24 hours away (as of the writing of this article) and we have zero ideas; Josh thinks he may just buy a flat white bedsheet and go as a Charlie Brown-style ghost. I'm considering calling in sick.
We Don't Like Kids
I mean, we don't hate kids or anything, but there's a reason we don't have any of our own, you know? Kids are very loud, and very messy, and very loud. And lots of them are my height or taller, so that is also annoying.
So. Much. Candy.
Even I--a person without much of a sweet tooth--gorge myself on candy on Halloween. If I'm going to be home, I usually don't even bother picking up candy; we just ignore knocks at the door while we go about our evening. One Halloween, when we were still living in Fairbanks, we had just returned home from the grocery store when we heard a knock on the door; it was two kids and a mom trick-or-treating the neighborhood. We didn't have a thing--not even a pack of gum--so I offered them each a banana that we had just purchased, apologizing for not being prepared (even though I seriously didn't give a shit). They all gave me a dirty look and moved on to the next house.
Fine, more bananas for me.
Halloween Brings Out the Jerks
Egging, toilet papering, general mayhem--I may have indulged in some stupid Halloween pranks as a kid, but now I am old and cranky and I don't want to deal. Even grownups go insane on Halloween. I really feel for bartenders, who now have to deal with folks whose inhibitions are doubly reduced--through alcohol, and costumed anonymity.
We Are Lazy
That's really what it boils down to in our house. We are two people who don't even think about buying Christmas gifts until December ... fifteenth. The idea of plotting out a costume, buying all the stuff, and executing it--we're obviously exhausted just considering that process. (See: Charlie Brown bedsheet ghost, above.) And we have to buy candy? And answer the door--a lot? That sounds like an awful lot of work. Wake me up at Thanksgiving.