Halloween

Candy wrappers and bits of fake cobwebs litter my front step. As I carefully wrap my ceramic pumpkins and plastic ghosts, my thoughts drift to how quickly the Halloween season passes. One bright September day I took advantage of the seventy-degree weather to haul the black-and-orange plastic totes down from the garage rafters. I hung up the fall wreath on the front door, along with my decorative "Pumpkins for Sale" sign. (After six years of hanging it on the front door, I'm surprised no one has even joked about trying to buy a pumpkin at my house.)
Now just a few short weeks later, Halloween is over, my hardy mums are starting to droop, and my artfully carved pumpkin is caving in. I'm packing up all of the leftover candy, the Tootsie Rolls, lollipops, and tiny boxes of gumdrops, into Ziploc bags. I bring the leftovers to work for my students. Don't tell them, but all of the chocolate usually goes to the little kids in cute costumes who ring the doorbell at my house. When I see a little princess or mummy, I can't help but give them two or three Snickers bars. Only the non-chocolate  stuff is left at the end of the night, so my student end up getting stuck with the gum drops.
This year was the first time in a decade I didn't host a massive Halloween party at my house. After looking at my schedule, which included all-day training for work the three Saturdays before  Halloween and kicking off teaching two half-semester courses the third week in October, I realized there just wouldn't be time to host a proper party. I already had prizes for the costume contest and I was really looking forward to picking out a scary and delicious cake at the Farmington Bakery. Reluctantly, I packed the costume contest prizes away for next year, and resigned myself to a dinner out with friends instead of a massive party.
In retrospect, this was a prescient plan. A week before Halloween, I came down with a nasty sinus infection, featuring a pounding pressure  beneath my cheekbones and a stabbing pain above my eyes. I could have used the swollen glands in my neck as travel pillows. My dogs always enjoy it when someone in the house is sick, because then they have a feverishly warm person to lay on top of on the couch. They just assume if you're on the couch, they can use you as a giant  heated pet bed. I'm okay with this arrangement, until the bigger dog decides to stand up and step on my stomach. He feels like he weighs a hundred pounds when his paws are firmly planted in your abdomen.
Getting sick the week before Halloween is no fun. I still dressed up as a little devil (well, more of a medium-sized devil), but I had to keep back from the chill of the open door. Even though I was pretty sure I was no longer contagious, I drafted another family member to hand out candy. As the kids said thank-you, I waved from my nest on the couch with the two dogs.
Feeling sick is a good reminder to slow down and rest, and maybe a sign you've been piling too much stress on yourself. I'm thankful I recovered, and I can get back to grading papers. My students are probably not so happy - because now they have to put up with my crazy energy again in the classroom.