No Candy For You!

While I’m sitting here waiting for Wikus to arrive for his driving-lesson number two (he has a driving permit, his second one actually, the first being when he was 22 when we moved from Boston to San Diego, and now at 36, he’s really going to try and get a license), I thought I’d take a moment to let all of you know that I haven’t deliquesced on my couch.  I know that’s a real fear.  Rotting in to a puddle of Grumples snot on the couch. 

Yesterday Fink-Nottle asked if I wore a costume to work.  I assumed he was IM-ing in the wrong window.  The man knows I have never worn a costume in my adult life (not counting that time a year ago September when Guamaniac put a black wig on me and dressed me up in an emerald green Mexican dress, aviator sunglasses, red lipstick and shoved a pillow up under the dress—I didn’t leave house, not even his bedroom looking like that), and if I happened to change my mind about wearing costumes as an adult, I certainly wouldn’t start by wearing one to work.  I spend enough time dealing with unwanted stares and comments, I really can’t fathom wanting to wear a costume.  Beside, isn’t Monday Halloween?  Seems at Google Friday was he official Halloween-at-work day.  To be clear, Fink-Nottle did not wear a costume either.

Though all this does bring me to something I have been fretting over these past few weeks.  Yes, weeks.  I live a sad, fretful life.  I’m in a new place (okay, it’s been six months), and haven’t had a Halloween in this area, so I do not know what to expect kid-wise.  I do not participate in the whole giving-kids-candy thing.  I don’t have the money to just buy candy and give it away, nor am I particularly fond of getting up every few minutes to answer the door, compliment kids on their outfits, then give them candy.  Yawn.  Also, I will have guests in town, AND, more importantly, I have a mosaic due on November 10, and if I am going to finish on time, I can’t be handing out candy to stupid dressed-up kids.  Okay?  Good grief. 

Wikus just showed up wearing his new Wranglers from Sears.  They are black, and he is very proud of them.  He is  yammering on about how all Levi’s look acid-washed and like they’ve been soaked in rancid tea.  I’m still laughing that he is wearing Wranglers.  I give you permission to laugh, too.  Also, it appears that he is growing a beard.  He claims he is growing an “awesome mustache” again.  A Lemmy mustache.  I do recall this mustache on him, and it is awesome.

The end.