Happy Hallowwww…yawn

I mentioned our neighbor is having a Halloween party this Saturday. We love her, love her parties…but, it’s “Costumes optional but encouraged.” To us, we know that means, “You live next door, you darn well better come in costume.”

Big sigh.

I don’t have a creative costume gene left. I used up the one I was born with in college, once when a high school friend came to visit and we wore punk clothes she raided from her sister’s closet, and once when my roommate and I made the cutest bee costumes out of garbage bags, yellow tape, pipe cleaners, and foam balls (for the antennae). Both were a hit. Gene depleted. From what he’s told me, my husband’s big hit was a hippie costume (whoopee).

I’ve been wracking my brains for the last month trying to come up with something easy. I even contemplated buying a costume, but even at 60% off, the $15-$20 just kills me. Hey, I need to spend $20 to get a flu shot this weekend…at least that has some redeeming value. But $20 for something I’ll wear for a couple hours then never look at again? (not to mention the costumes are so stupid) Can’t bring myself to do it. Plus there’s the hubbie to consider — another $15-$20?

I look online at all the creative, clever costumes people make. All I can think is, “Where do they get the energy?” It’s one thing to dress your 4-year-old in something adorable; times that age by 10 or so and it’s just plain too much work.

I admit it: I’m old and boring. I can accept that. I wonder if I can just pay a party-pooper fee at the door and have a beer already? (Actually, I don’t think that’s a bad idea — come in costume or kick in $5 or bring some canned goods and we’ll donate it to the local food bank.)

So I’m back to my original thought — coming as exhausted homeowners. We could fall asleep on the couch — very authentic. And maybe even a little scary.

There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people:
religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.
                                                             – Linus Van Pelt

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