I drove home from work Tuesday.
Tired, ready to relax. Desperately in need of some down time.
Which might have involved wine.
Nothing in a paper bag.
Quit with the judging.
I made the final turn into the neighborhood, appreciating the subtle change in colors that defines the Northern California fall.
If you can’t tell the difference between burnt sienna and burnt umber, you should probably enjoy autumn somewhere else.
Also, there’s a difference between a zin and a cab.
So they tell me.
Hey, I like the stuff in the box.
And again with judging.
But relaxing was not to be.
My neighbor down the street had…had…her Halloween decorations out.
And not some tacky Color-Forms ghost in the windows. Not some lame-ass cardboard cutout of a cat in front of a full moon.
That tramp had 32 mini pumpkins lining the roof of her house.
It was perfect.
It was just friggin’ adorable.
Oh, I hate her so.
Himself called me to tell me he was on his way home.
“Hi sweetie. I’m just on the road.”
“That woman has her pumpkins out!”
“Didn’t you hear me?? She has her pumpkins in the roof already!”
“Who? What pumpkins?”
“Those people who painted their house that perfect color! They have all those pumpkins on the roof again!”
“On the roof?”
“YES! Don’t you remember from last year when they put all those pumpkins up along the roof?”
“Sweetie, did you already have a glass of wine?”
“Didn’t you hear me?? PUMPKINS!!! ON THEIR ROOF!!!”
“Uh huh. I see. Am I getting the Halloween decorations down?”
“Damn STRAIGHT you’re getting the decorations down! And you know what else?”
“We’re shopping for pumpkins?”
“WE are shopping for PUMPKINS!”
“I thought maybe.”