Trick or Treat. I am the Treat. Yeah.

So, last night I went trick or treating. At 7:00 p.m. In reverse. Not backwards exactly. We brought candy. We played games with the little kids.

Yes, we were the treats.

6:35 p.m.: I need a costume. It is cold outside. Seriously. Like in the 40's. I put my orange jacket over my black t-shirt and jeans. Not a costume.

6:37 p.m.: I am standing in my closet. Looking. At my clothes. For inspiration. I see Rosie, the creepiest doll on earth. Please do not ask why Rosie is in my closet. It is personal. Okay, fine. I'll tell you. She is in my closet, face down, because she scares me. She reminds me of Chucky. Yes Chucky, from the creepiest horror movies ever. She even sounds like Chucky when she talks. Yes, she talks. Creepy!

6:39 p.m.: I am standing in the kitchen. I am inspired. I pull my awfully cute apron from the drawer. It matches my jacket. Nice. I grab a spatula. Rubber. And my personal guidebook. Martha Stewart's Cookies.

6:40 p.m. Hub wraps his belt around me, around the wool coat, around the apron, around the creepy doll that sounds like Chucky and around my guidebook. He makes jokes about strapping the creepy doll at my breast. He thinks he is hilarious. He struggles to find the smallest notch. I am tiny, he says. Nice.

Susie Homemaker, at your service.

Let the Halloweening begin! Well, continue ...