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IT DRIZZLED THEN RAINED HERE last night, starting at about 6:00 p.m. just in time for the trick-or-treaters. The temperature was in the 60s, about as warm as I’ve experienced in late October. The night was in a word, unusual, and our reduced trick-or-treat count proved it.
In years past we’ve had anywhere from 120 to 220 beggars at the door, but this year our head count was only 60 kids.
Despite the rain and because of the warm temperature, Z-D and I sat outside on our front stoop where we plopped ourselves onto two chairs he’d brought around front from the deck in the back.
There we waited to hand out candy, holding umbrellas over our heads, watching a slow parade of cute, polite kids shuffle their way across our yard, ignoring the precipitation.
Trick or treat!
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YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING WHY we didn’t stay inside our house, waiting for the kids to ring the doorbell. And this would be a sensible thing for you, my gentle readers, to wonder.
But the thing is, and in my world there’s always a thing, here in Beanlandia our doorbell, a diva, is broken and has been for a few weeks.
From a distance it glows and looks useful, however if anyone pushes it the middle button thing pops out and dangles down from an electric cord.
Kind of dangerous.
The doorbell has one ring in it before it has to be manually reconfigured and placed back into the wall where it resumes its role as a pretend working doorbell.
Hence, maintaining its integrity is a bother that we avoided by sitting outside under our umbrellas in the rain.
As one does.
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AND WITH THAT GLIMPSE INTO the life and times of one woman, one husband, one house, I’ll end this wordy post in which I’ve discussed the weather, trick-or-treaters, and doorbells gone bad.
In fact, should future historians whilst looking through old personal blogs want an example of a blog post that is the epitome of flapdoodle and twaddle, I do hope they find this one.
Because if there was a point to what I said here, I dunno what it is.
Other than to say, Halloween has come and gone. And we have a lot of leftover candy in this house.
Only 60 kids…