When I was growing up in Virginia, there was a house in my neighborhood that really went all out for Halloween. The old man that lived there found a different way to spook the kids every year. Sometimes he'd be a scarecrow in the yard, jumping down to chase us at the last minute. Other times, a zombie, leaping up to send us screaming from his porch. It was all in good fun, and the highlight of trick or treating.
I work from home. And I have a job where I may or may not be discussing sensitive, legally-classified information with clients over the phone, who would not necessarily be pleased to know I do so from the comforts of my guest bedroom (or as Chris insists on calling it, the Office by Day, Man Room By Night). Also, I work weird hours because our clients are predominantly located on the west coast.
Therefore, I have an ongoing hatred of the neighborhood children, particularly this one family in my building. There are a handful of grubby boys, of an undistinguishable age - they could be anywhere from seven to fifteen, for all I know. And they spike my blood pressure on a daily basis, what with the yelling right outside my first floor window, the basketball throwing against the wall, the bike riding up and down the hall.. I could go on. Other inhabitants, including myself, have complained to our condo's leasing office about the disturbance, and apparently, warnings have been issued and parents have been talked to, but to no avail. The kids actually seemed to take these reprimands as a dare to misbehave MORE. No amount of stern looks or pleading requests to be quiet have deterred them. They're never supervised, from what I can see- parents are never home. And this is a nice, expensive area - literally the most expensive complex in our large city. But I digress.
So to try and offset the "crazy neighbor lady" I have been to them in the past, I knew I wanted to do something cool for Halloween, since I wouldn't be able to answer their every knock and hand out candy myself, since I'd be, you know, working. Try and keep up.
I had the idea to decorate a wooden bar stool like a tomb and put a bowl of candy inside, with a sign instructing them to take one. But in my excitement, I forgot one major detail.
I. Am. Not. Crafty.
I can arrange the shit out of some furniture and decor, and match the shit out of some outfits, but give me foam or pipe cleaners or paint and you'll be sorry. I always start out enthusiastic, and end up covered in feathers and glitter. I was actually asked to leave a bridal shower event where I managed to ruin 40 mason jars painted in whimsical colors, and I was the only one that got completely covered in paint.
So somehow in the process I realize I have no tape. No duct tape, no Scotch, no adhesive. As I pondered actually chewing some gum and using that (what?) I remembered I had some Super Glue left over from that time I had to glue my trunk back on (yeah, there's a story).
I'm gonna show these little fuckers, I thought smugly to myself. My porch is going to be EPIC and they'll all be so impressed that they'll actually listen when I ask them to stop playing laser tag in my front yard.
...
Man, this Super Glue is super.. gluey.
Ouch. Wait - I wasn't done with that part! Don't stick, don't stick- crap.
Oh wow - haha, how'd I get glue THERE?
Okay, just going to put my bowl of candy right - here - wait a minute. Why is this bowl stuck -
...
Yeah. So somehow I managed to adhere the bright orange bowl to the coffee table, and when I went to try and fix THAT fiasco, I somehow glued a paper towel to my hand.
I ended up throwing two bags of fun-size M&M's on the welcome mat. Fuck em.
They'll figure it out, I told myself as I alternately munched on candy and picked bits of hardened Bounty off my palm.
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