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.