The great pumpkin is rotting on my doorstep

I would like to say that feeling like you have a hangover without having actually imbibed anything on which to hang is REALLY UNFAIR. If I'd known Monday would feel like this without the second and third gin and tonic at the murder mystery dinner party, I wouldn't have worried. At work this morning I may have stared at my computer screen and thought, "Today? The audit can bite me."

(I also got ready to leave at five, until I realized that my phone clock had not been reset and it was only FOUR. Why must the government mess with time? Have they run out of things to screw with?)

I'm pretty excited to put on my witch mask tonight and hand out candy. I live in a weird little section of the city, where developers are knocking down decrepit old apartment buildings and dilapidated houses belonging to ladies moving to nursing homes and putting up rows and rows of three-story lookalike townhouses. As far as I can tell, the owners are mostly people like me: youngish recently married professional types who can't afford "real" houses in the city. Except for the guy who built the much loathed Mini-Townhouse in his backyard, there aren't a lot of people with kids. [Side Note: Seattle, apparently, lost some lawsuit regarding playhouses and treehouses so there is nothing- nothing!- we can do about the HUUUUUUUUGE mini townhouse across from us. Except spit on it when we walk by, which we take great pains to do.]

Anyway, I have four bags worth of candy dumped into my little pumpkin basket ready to be handed out to the darling children of the neighborhood. I really hope I get trick or treaters. It's like... one of those things I get to do now that I'm a grown up and live in a house. It's a THING. Other people have said that for SURE we'll get trick or treaters as the space-to-candy ratio in my neighborhood is potentially mind blowing to the more entrepreneurial trick or treater. This makes sense to me, as my friend Shanna and I zoomed through all of base housing (approximately 97 bajillion houses) within our parent-approved two hours or so of candy gathering time at age ten. This was accomplished while wearing someone's-eye-will-get-poked-out Pippi Longstocking braids (Shanna) and a foil "Cleopatra" headpiece resembling a take-out dinner swan (me) and making sure to run into all the boys from our class. I have NEVER scored that much candy. It was glorious.

I need to go unload my dishwasher (we used every single plate for the murder mystery dinner party) and put on my witch mask.

Tomorrow: Party recap!