Halloween may have ended where you are, but we still have trick-or-treaters to expect tomorrow. I stayed home with a cold today, sipping hot tea and hot chocolate and hot soup and losing the willpower battle to dip into the peanut butter cups. I’m not sick often. In fact, I’m smug about how healthy I am most of the time. It’s one of my more irritating qualities. When the Lady moved in, all the medicine in the house had expiration dates sometime in 2010. So, of course, when I do get sick, I insist on putting on a full homebound routine, with flannel and a stack of tissues nearby.
I’m sure there is a study somewhere showing that our mothers were wrong and you don’t get colds from being outside in cold weather or rain. I’m no medical professional. But I did head out to celebrate Halloween last weekend without a coat. Some friends of mine throw an annual bash with around 350 guests in costume and an open bar. It’s notorious. There’s a secret recipe punch, a dj, and enough “slutty ______” costumes to make a girl blind.
In my twenties, I tried for “sexy,” I suppose. But I’m a settled-down ladyperson of a certain age now, and there is no way I’m going to wear a costume that makes me cold or painful heels that I can’t dance in. Instead, on a last-minute shopping spree, I found a bargain on giant sweatshirts. It started with The Lady’s idea. She wanted to dress up as a well-known book character.
Easy peasy- one giant white sweatshirt, some rabbit ears and a bunny tail, and some vampire fangs. So, what does Bunnicula’s date wear?
Yep. That’s me. A Bunnicula victim/ carrot.