the ocean

There was a time -- long, long ago -- when I was all about getting in costume (or costumes) for Halloween and stepping out on the town to soak up attention. I recall being exceedingly proud of my Burt Reynolds costume (for which the fake moustache did most of the work) and my Richard Simmons costume (wig). But at some point it all just started to seem kind of exhausting to me, like so many things in a young man's life. One can't just dress as a ghost or a witch any more; it has to be something obscure yet recognizable, witty yet accessible, slutty yet legal. Whereas sitting at home with the lights off is satisfyingly low impact.

We are, of course, now rounding the corner towards Halloween. I had a deal with Ian that he could put our decorations up on October 1 or as soon as someone else on our block did, whichever came first, and that ended up equating to last weekend. So we now have a light up skeleton, a two-headed hellhound with sound effects, a panoply of gourds, and various other autumnal items populating our front porch. It is all quite impressive, if a bit of an obstacle for ingress and egress. I am remaining deliberately ignorant of any relevant fire code provisions.

I am not one of those people who loves fall, as I feel confident I have previously documented on this very platform. But I will say that there are some advantages to being indoors and cozy as opposed to outdoors and crazy. Call it a sign of maturity, if you must.