I am the Scrooge of Halloween
After this overloaded week of wage slavery, greeting trick or treaters seemed like just another in a long list of unwanted obligations. Since one kid is away with her mother at a band competition and the other kid is spending the night with a trick-or-treating pal, I opted for some Mexican take out (from the excellent Los Aztecas here in Pottstown where the hostess was Halloweened to the nines) and some much needed sermon writing.
So there I was, writing away in a frenzy of theological inspiration, with every outside and inside light turned off save the one on my desk, when I heard adolescent voices outside, approaching the almost completely darkened house from down the street. It sounded like there were maybe three or four of them.
Most of the young trick-or-treaters stayed curbside, but one of them wasn't to be put off by the dark and risky walk to the front door. I could hear him responding to his friends who tried to dissuade him, "why not... why not.... WHY NOT." Clearly this young man was destined to be a lexicographer.
At the front door, he yelled back to his cohorts, "I can see the guy inside." Why yes, I AM sitting inside, I thought. Inside of MY house with most of the lights off and, by the way, no candy. What's it to ya?
Now, I realize that I was being anti-social and that it is Halloween after all, but I thought there was an unspoken rule which specifies that if a house is dark and has not a single Halloween decoration of any kind on it or anywhere near it, trick or treat etiquette dictates that that house be skipped. Plus I had no candy and who wants to answer the door and admit that?
Anyway, the kid never did knock and I didn't answer the door. Eventually he left and I turned the one remaining light off so that the only light in the house was emitted by the screen of the notebook computer on which I am typing this post.
P.S. I finished my sermon and will now go to a lengthy end-of-DST slumber. Goodnight.
