Based on my past experiences of raiding the candy bags for a week before Halloween, I knew that this was a really, really smart plan. It assured that a) I would not gain five pounds in stolen Halloween candy weight and, b) there would actually be some candy left for the trick or treaters. This plan actually would have worked really well except for one small thing.
This year, they cancelled Halloween.
After the freak October storm caused all those trees to knock down all those power lines, the streets were simply not safe for trick or treaters. I guess the town thought seeing zombies and vampires walking around would be enough of a shock for the kids without having them step on live wires. Can’t really argue with that logic.
Not wanting to disappoint all the young zombies, though, the town did not cancel Halloween altogether; they just decided to postpone it a week. This put me squarely back in the one-week-til-halloween-with-six-bags-of-candy-in-my-house scenario I had originally tried to avoid.
Now, all things being even, when all is well and I am in a good place, I have a fighting chance of avoiding the call of the candy sirens. However, all was not well at my house. The same week that we had six bags of candy in the house we also had no power. What is a girl to do with no heat, no hot water, no lights, and no electricity of any kind?
Eat candy, of course.
There are your stress eaters, your depressed eaters, your happy eaters and your sad eaters.
I am a no-electricity eater.
Having never been in this situation before, I really did not know this about myself. I was amazed how in complete darkness, I could still find my way to a bag of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. In the cold, I could still sniff out the Kit Kats. It was like some kind of strange sixth sense. I was Candy Clairvoyant.
Although this was an intriguing realization, it did not really help me address the problem of my candy binge.
I knew, Halloween or no Halloween, I had to get rid of the candy.
“Honey,” said my husband over the phone to me the next day. “Do you have any idea how six Kit Kats got into my briefcase.
“No idea,” I responded.
“Or how a dozen Reeses Peanut Butter Cups ended up in my jacket pocket.
“I don’t have a clue,” I said.
“And I suppose you know nothing about the bag of Snickers in my glove compartment, the Milky Way’s in my car door and the Three Musketeers in the trunk of my car.
“Sounds like you had a visit from the candy fairy!” I said cheerily.
“Is the candy fairy trying to make sure certain people don’t dip into the Halloween candy before the trick or treaters come to the house?” He wondered.
“She might be.”
“OK. Tell her I will be the keeper of the candy. But just remind her that the car engine is not a great place to stash chocolate.”