My Halloween enthusiasm is at an all time low. Here it is, the 27th day of Halloween, and I've done almost nothing to celebrate. Sure, it's easy to just say Everyday Is Halloween, and I have, but I usually try to officially begin the season on the day summer dies, which is the day after Labor Day.
Hey, don't get me wrong. I enjoy 15 or 20 minutes of warm weather and sunshine as much as the next person. 
But what I really enjoy is when the swimming pools are drained and barbecue grills are stowed away for the summer, and the Food Network hosts get dressed as Liza Minelli and start hot-gluing livestock to serving plates to create their holiday table-scapes.
So I've only scattered a dozen or so additional candles around the penthouse, and only covered some of the furniture in black shrouds, and only added a few additional skulls where they were needed, and only eaten one box of Halloween Oreos. Out of the Universal Monsters box set, I've only watched The Invisible Man. I've only watched Monsters Crash The Pajama Party once.
The only Halloween-themed vinyl I've listened to is my copy of Spook Show Spectacular A-Go-Go.
I forgot to hang up my folk art witch, I haven't hung up my wreath with the plastic bloody eyeballs, I haven't purchased any festive holiday gourds, I haven't bought any candy corn, and I only have the one container of green Funfetti Frosting with the candy googly eyes. What if I have some sort of Funfetti-related cake emergency? It wouldn't be the first time.
As you can clearly see, I'm completely unprepared for the holiday and I'm undergoing some sort of crisis. Ok, maybe crisis is a bit strong. It's just Halloween, I'm sure I'm fine.
Ok, so maybe there is one little, teensy, tiny issue, and it almost isn't even worth bothering to mention, and no, it wasn't that time I went to the farmer's market and accidentally purchased $18 worth of grapes, although that was extremely delicious and traumatic.
AKA, The Grapening
Really, fruit shouldn't be $7 a pound. No one needs that much fruit. Grape jam is about $3 a jar, and it's filled with all kinds of grapes. But no, that's not what I'm getting at, even though getting grifted for grapes really gets my goat.
What I'm getting at is that here in what should be known as The Worst Year Ever For My Health (and not The Grapening), I was recently diagnosed with Spasmodic Dysphonia. It's fine. It's difficult to speak, but it's fine.
Seriously, don't listen to that meme up there. In the grand scheme, it could be much worse. My voice is shaky and weird, and I get some odd stares. It's no big deal. I'll get some treatment, and I'll be back to yammering on like I usually do. And I'm in good company with Diane Rehm, Linda Thompson, Mary Lou Lord, and Darryl McDaniels of Run-DMC, who all have it. So in the meantime, I'm going to hang up that folk art witch, hang up my bloody-eyed wreath, and go buy some candy corn.
Even though it's difficult to communicate, and I haven't posted much lately, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for reading this dumb little blog that talks about nearly everything but the thing it's supposed to talk about. I appreciate you all. Talk to you all soon.
