Halloween Die-ary: September 4, 2018

Another day of zero Halloween, minus the whiff of caramel apple candle greeting me at the door when I got home from work. Just too hot. Also, I spent four hours in a car commuting in and out of Boston. I just wanted to hang out on the couch for the evening.

But I kept getting stared at by a two-dimensional wooden jack-o-lantern sitting under the TV with an expression on its gourd that alternates between reproach and anticipation, depending on how the light from the television hit it. The object was made by my daughters and their grandmother a week or two ago. Apparently, its paint is dry now, so it’s just hanging out at the house waiting to join a party that hasn’t started yet.

Eventually, I had to duck the pumpkin-painted plank and everything it stood for, so I headed to the basement for more treadmill and more Joe Bob Briggs (this time hosting the magnificence that is Frank Henenlotter’s 1982 Basket Case), knowing all the while that certain orange plastic bins were ten feet away on the other side of the basement.

I’m being haunted by my own Halloween decor.