This morning, it occurred to me that in a few short weeks, I will do something really insane:
I will spend enough money to buy a nice pair of shoes on bags and bags of candy.
I will then take my kids on a time-honored ritual of going door-to-door throughout the neighborhood to ask for and receive candy from the homeowners.
With three kids getting candy, we will have at least three times as much candy as what I bought in the first place.
Inexplicably, I will have overbought candy and/or had a slow night, so we will end up with leftover candy. More than likely, we’ll have an unopened bag of a 500-count of something.
I will then—that very night—sort and loot my kids’ candy bags, paring them down to an acceptable amount of candy to be rationed out over the next year.
I will take all of the Reese’s peanut butter cup-related candy out and hide for myself.
I will throw a few handfuls of candy into the trash.
I will send at least two Ziploc gallon bags’ worth to work with Chris.
I will give at least one Ziploc gallon bag’s worth to my father.
I will throw another few handfuls of candy into the trash.
I will grumble and complain at the obscene amount of candy my kids got on Halloween.
I will supervise vigorous and thorough teeth-brushing.
I will watch my scale climb up five pounds.
I will then wonder, Now why didn’t I just avoid all of this and buy a new pair of shoes?