Halloween was a lot bigger than I’d anticipated. The whole thing started with going to the Haunted House. I am a perfect target for scary people. They terrify me. I run and screech and cling to the back of Layce’s sweatshirt, almost strangling her in the process. The ghouls, ghosts, and Freddie Kruegers follow us because I’m so much fun for them. I consider it a social duty. And don’t even get me started on the chainsaws.

Next came the pumpkin carving. I carefully chose the right stencil in keeping with the holiday theme—a ghost. It was a lot more involved than I’d figured on. I followed the instructions: tape the stencil to the pumpkin, take the pokey stick and poke holes, remove the stencil and carve between the holes. Easier said than done.

It took me three hours to get the whole thing right. My triceps ached, my forefinger and thumb sustained minor injuries, but the pumpkin was a masterpiece. Martha Stewart would’ve been proud.

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I was so exhausted from the pumpkin carving that I put off decorating until the following day. Em assisted. We hung lights and decorations. It looked good, but I could see that having people come to the house required a safety check list. The path needed to be lit, but the porch light couldn’t be turned on because it ruined the frightening ambiance.

I located a camping lantern. It was perfect. The orange lights we’d hung needed an extension cord which would have to be duct taped to the porch so no one would trip, (mainly me) because it was located in front of the chair where I would sit wearing my purple witch hat and handing out candy.

We won’t go into how long it took me to choose just the right one witch hat. Actually, Layce finally took over or we would’ve never gotten out of the store.

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Once it was all set up, I was very pleased with myself. This was my first real attempt at Halloween decorating. I was pretty darn impressed with myself. Until the doorbell rang at 4:30. I panicked.

It wasn’t dark yet. I hadn’t lit the pumpkins, the lights weren’t plugged in, and I didn’t have my witch hat on. Worst of all, I was hit with an immediate case of performance anxiety. I had to hand out candy and I didn’t know how.

“You have to hand out the candy,” I told Layce, thrusting the black, plastic cauldron full of candy at her.

“No, this is your deal,” she said, cocking her head in the direction of the front door.

The doorbell rang again.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Layce asked.

“How do I know which candy to give them? We’ve got chocolate bars and low-fat healthy snacks. Who should get the healthy ones? Who gets the chocolate? Am I discriminating in some way? What if I’m contributing to childhood obesity? Too much sugar isn’t good for kids, but what’s Halloween if you don’t get candy? What if the kid doesn’t like what I give them? Will I be candy shamed?”

Layce rolled her eyes. The doorbell rang again. I stood paralyzed. Layce grabbed the cauldron, sighing, “I’ll do it.”

I took a deep breath. She was right. I would have to learn to do it on my own. I had to conquer my fear. This was worse than the chainsaw at the Haunted House. Then, I had an idea.

Layce shut the door. “See, how easy that was?”

“Next year, I’m setting up a self-serve stand. I’ll make a shelf like at the store. Then they can choose whatever they want. It’ll have to be on the honor system, which is a teaching opportunity for good citizenry.”

“Are you going to be like this every Halloween?”

“No, I’m going to get better at it.”

Layce walked out of the room, mumbling something that sounded like, “Well, you couldn’t get any worse.”

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