Like the buildup to Christmas and other major holidays, the run-up to Halloween is too long and protracted –all those cooking shows and ads and store displays and then, poof! It’s over. At least that’s how I felt about it this year. We anticipated the event with hamburgers and pumpkin carving—about ten of us. And I ended the evening at my desk with two carved pumpkins glowing at me from the deck. I notice tonight that they’re gone—presumably to the front porch.
Yesterday, the day, I was isolated from the festivities, including the approximately 1300 children who came trick or treating. My cottage proved ideal—no one found it to trick or treat except grown girls who came begging a glass of wine. And I was back here in solitary quiet, enjoying it.
I am not usually such a curmudgeon. Usually go to Jay and Susan’s for a bowl of stew and to watch them hand out treats. No kidding—we get about 1300 tricksters on our block. Most are small, sweet, and oh so polite. In the next block over, Medstar brings handicapped children and allows them a rare chance to participate. I’m proud to live in a neighborhood that welcomes so many and such diverse children.
But last night I was not myself. All day I had noticed that I tended to fall asleep over the keyboard—in fact, I had noticed it a few mornings during last week and of course my brain immediately went to brain tumor. When Jordan said to me last night that I looked like I was about to fall asleep, I said that was because that was how I felt. She suggested—being oh so reasonable—that perhaps I was overtired. Since I slept 10.5 hours last night I suspect she was right. I still fell asleep a bit this morning but nothing like yesterday. Maybe cumulative tired, like six months of it, has caught up with me.
But now it’s over, and I think we can settle down to a few peaceful days—If Jordan doesn’t invite half the world for another function which she has yet to dream up. I am not falling asleep over the keyboard but I am weary tonight.
I did wish at 3 a..m. this morning I’d had my camera at hand. I was in bed, thinking those black three-o’clock-in-the-morning thoughts about things that didn’t really need to be worried about. I decided to go to the restroom to sort of break the cycle, but I forgot to turn on the bedside light. When I came back I could barely make out that there was something large, black, and rumpled in the doorway between the bedroom and kitchen. Sophie never bothers towels, but that was what it looked like. As I inched toward the light, half of mass moved several feet. Sophie had gotten her color caught in the afghan that covers her chair and was doomed to drag the blanket with her wherever she went. She gave me the most pitiful look that said, “Help me, please” I scooted into the kitchen, got scissors and freed her.
It was one of life’s little lessons—don’t fret and stew over things that are not here yet, if ever, but help your dog. Priorities.