Confessions of a Halloween Grinch

Uh oh, it's officially Halloweezy.

I never thought I'd be, well, the person I apparently am. I heard loud knocking on the door and realized there are actually kids in my building (Which was very unexpected. My building is overwhelmingly populated by old gay men, just another humorous turn in Lilly's Life as an Urban Single.) I ran to the cabinet and all we had were 3 lollipops of varying age. One is a Chupa Chup, possibly leftover from Jessica's stint in Europe... in June. I debated shutting off the lights, but then ran to the peephole and counted 3 people - a kid and 2 adults. Did I have enough candy for San Diego's children? Would it be weird to offer them a bag of sour cherries? Apples? IS THIS why people end up giving kids apples on Halloween?

As I drew near the door I heard more Oompa Loompa voices, so I knew there were 3, possibly 4 kids. Potentially our kids, 3 lollipops... what was I to do? I opened my door...but their backs were all to me! They were Trick or Treating across the hall from me.

No one noticed me, so, well... I slid the door back shut. I know! I'm not proud of what I did! I'm SHARING with you. This is a safe space, no? I mean, what was I supposed to do? "Hey, um, I know you're not here for me, but here's some candy because you're so f***ing loud that I heard you across the house." I mean, the kid in me DOES want to reward them for being so loud, but my building also has this weirdo procedure whereby you 'sign up' to be a house kids trick or treat to. I had not signed up, so not only was I off the hook, but really, to get involved in their Halloweezy would have been improper.

So basically I kept the lollipops and they moved on to Twila's house.

I realize this makes me a grinch. I realize this makes me all the old people I hated growing up, who dimmed their lights and, in the case of the N's who lived next door, left us saran-wrapped stacks of ten pennies (did I mention that their house is bigger than God's?). And yes, I realize that even that -- saran-wrapped dirty coinage -- would have been better than our worn-out Chupa Chups. Or nothing. And yes, Michael Jackson, I'm taking a look at the man in the mirror. I'm asking her to change her ways.

Next year.