The curse of Halloween
The curse of Halloween is not headless horsemen or wayward ghosts....nope, it's mini-candy bars. You know you have to buy them, because the gremlins are coming and they don't want that bag of pearl barley you can't remember why you bought. They want candy.
So you buy candy....and then the candy calls you from the kitchen. Candy. Not something we usually have in our house. And now there are bags of Snickers, Milky Way, and Hershey's with almonds just sitting there. And you know I have no willpower. But if I give in I'll gain back all that pre-zarf weight, and I kinda like being skinny. (Well, skinny for me anyway.)
I can hear you being the voice of reason "why didn't you buy candy you hate, and then you won't be tempted." Yeah, not going to work. The only candy I hate is the candy that kids also hate. And I just can't bring myself to give kids those wierd suckers that only show up in bags of 300 for $5 around Halloween. Nope, for someone who is not really a kid-person, I still want to give them yummy candy because that's what's Halloween is about. When I was a kid, we hated the house that gave us raisins -- and we'd always toss out the Abba-Zabba (what the hell is Abba-Zabba anyway?) But we were big fans of anyone who gave us really good candy. And not just one each -- people who'd give us a handful were our best friends.
Back when I did AIDS work and got free condoms I also gave them out on Halloween. No, not to the 5-year olds. To the junior and high school kids who'd come around after 9, barely bothering with costumes, jonesing for some free M & Ms. Surprisingly enough, the condoms were quite popular (and yes, the got candy too). But now it's just candy....and it knows my name.