Typically, I’m a curmudgeon on Halloween and don’t give out candy. I’m that guy, lurking in the darkness to dissuade the kiddies from knocking on my door. This year, since I live in a nice area now, I’ve shed my loner ways and am actually quite neighborly. So, to stay in the spirit of things and as a great way to get to know the people in my apartment complex, I splurged on candy for when they come a-knockin’. Not only did I buy candy, but I bought “name” candy. You know, the working class candy: Snickers, Baby Ruth, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. That’s the kind of candy I sought after when I was a child, so why not give it out as an adult? None of that candy fit for the ghetto in the clear plastic wrapping. Brach’s = no good.
Anyway, since this is my first Halloween at this complex, I’ve yet to find out what kind of foot traffic to expect. It’s 7 p.m. at this moment and not one knock. I’m starting to think that no one trick-or-treats around here. Come to think of it, it’s a lot of work for too little gain since I live in a three story complex with no elevators. Furthermore, the apartments on a given floor aren’t necessarily “connected.” Meaning, going up one flight of stairs only gets you access to four apartments before you have to go back down and then up the next flight for the next four apartments. That’s a decent workout for in-shape adults. Imagine what that’ll do for tiny legs.
So, I’m going to start making my dinner and we’ll see if anyone comes. I won’t expect them, though, leaving $30 worth of candy all for me!
My dentist is going to have his work cut out for himself.