Our friend Eva came over on Tuesday. The Goddess made a big pot of chili. I bought some bourbon, and we got everyone in bed on time so that the three of us could enjoy a conversation without talking about MonkeyBoo or Doctor Who.
Eva stepped out to smoke on the porch and I walked out with her. The Goddess was just behind me. When she'd finished, the Goddess turned the door knob to go back in the house. It was locked.
"Is there an extra key -- like under the mat?" I asked.
"No. I used it to get back in when I locked myself out last week."
Hmmm.
The three of us walked around the house trying every single door and window in the place. Nothing was open. We tried knocking on the front door. We tried banging the front door down. We threw balls and rocks at the kids' second floor windows to wake them. Those people sleep like the dead. We fetched our ladder to try the roof, but our ladder wasn't long enough.
Eventually, we woke our neighbor. She's an older lady -- nice in her way -- but frequently annoyed with us. Apparently Eva had pushed open her garden gate the wrong way while stumbling through the dark and she was quite put out. We explained the situation and she looked at us like we were drunken panhandlers.
"I've got a longer ladder," she finally said. "You can try it."
Eva volunteered, as she is both smaller and younger than the two of us. By this point it had started to rain, so I began wondering what my liability was in this situation, having a non-family member climbing on my wet roof in the dark to try to break in to my children's rooms.
She made it to the seven-year-old's window and began knocking loudly while shouting her name. I was fairly certain that the seven-year-old would assume it was a vampire or perhaps a dead spirit and begin screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs.
Nothing. She rolled over and covered her head with her pillow.
Our neighbor Crystal was sneaking behind her house for a cigarette, so she came over when she heard the racket. We had decided to fetch the tools and the Goddess was doing her best to pick the lock on the front door. We discuss calling a locksmith.
Crystal has a neighbor in school with the eleven-year-old. She asked me what team he was on.
"Cobalt," I said.
"Well, let me ask you a question," she said. "What do you think of Mrs. T.?"
Well, at this point, I had to decide if I wanted to tell Crystal that I think Mrs. T. is a bully and a cunt. But I wanted to test the waters.
"We've had a few problems with her," I say.
Crystal then unloads on me. She doesn't like Mrs. T. She thinks she is mean and picks on certain kids. She talks down to parents. And Crystal hates the way she wears her hair. I agree.
We talk for about twenty minutes about school, about our school, about how we think it does a poor job of serving children -- especially boys -- who don't like to "play school." Eva and the Goddess eventually wander off, trying to pick other locks, while Crystal and I continue our conversation.
Then the Goddess comes through the front door from the inside.
"How'd you get in?" I ask.
"Oh, I tried to remove a panel from the French doors in the dining room."
"That worked?"
"Kind of," she says, holding out shattered pieces of glass.
In any event, we are back inside after two hours of the ordeal. The kids were still dead to the world.
The next evening I left the Goddess to watch the kids by herself. I had a rehearsal that lasted till almost midnight because we have two new band members and two shows this weekend. They are our Halloween shows, which are the biggest ones of the year.
Wednesday I went in to work early, because I'm trying to pick up some extra hours. The Goddess texts me just a few minutes after I arrive.
"I've been looking at next year's taxes."
I don't ask why.
"Well, it looks like you made too much money this year."
For reasons I won't go into, I made a little extra money this year -- a one time thing -- which I used to dig myself out of debt. Even though I'd already paid the taxes, it apparently put me in a different tax bracket.
"You may owe about $5000."
I have literally never owed income tax after filing each year. $5000 seems like a nearly impossible sum. They might as well ask for $50,000, because I don't have it.
"If we got married, you'd probably get something back."
"How much?" I ask her.
"Looks like about $5000."
I'm suddenly feeling very romantic.
"Maybe we should get married."
"Yeah. Probably."
Now, the Goddess has been wearing an engagement ring since Christmas. We've been planning on getting married for a couple of years. It's just not been a big priority. We've had two kids, bought a house, and moved everyone in together. We also just haven't had much money for a wedding.
We had told friends that we were getting married this November, but honestly, we've just let it slip. We've gotten no license, reserved no venues, hired no band.
After some discussion, we decide to keep the November date. It's on a Sunday. Three weeks from now.
We talk about what we want to do since we have no money.
The answer is pretty obvious. We are going to have a Gothic-themed wedding.
Because, I'll be honest, we really don't get enough Halloween. And we like dressing up. And it's a second marriage for both of us, so we might as well have some fun.
I make a big announcement on Facebook and we chat back and forth all day, trying to work out details. It's fun. I'm excited.
I left work a few minutes early, because our city decided to do trick-or-treat on the 29th instead of the 31st. The seven-year-old was already dressed ("rock singer") and she and her older brother were carving jack-o'-lanterns. We get the Ape and the Monkey dressed in their costumes -- and ape and a monkey. The eleven-year-old decides (last minute) to wear his Doctor Who attire.
This is the first time I've been trick-or-treating since I was a child. The Monkey went last year, but my band was on tour and I couldn't go. The Ape is just 8 months, so it's his first time. He literally sleeps in the stroller the entire two hours. The Monkey gets out a few times and manages to walk up to a few houses to get his bucket filled. The seven-year-old goes with her friend Moriah and we catch up with her later. The eleven-year-old uses a British accent all night. We see Crystal out with her son, who is carrying a Scream mask, because he decided 6th grade was too old to go in costume.
We eventually catch up with the seven-year-old, who is now walking with no shoes, because her rock-singer boots hurt her feet. We go to a few more houses and then it's back home.
"I just saw Rayanna," the seven-year-old says, "but I thought it was Layanna because she had on her mask."
"Are they sisters?" I ask.
After the kids are in bed, I start packing up for my Friday show in Cincinnati with the band. Then I spend about an hour doing a trial run on my make-up for my Halloween costume: the Wolfman.
The Goddess had planned to go with me, but her mom called and told us she couldn't watch the kids. She is a teacher and was going to take the day off so that she could make the two-hour trip to our house in time. But her substitute backed out at the last minute, so she would arrive too late.
I'm pretty bummed, but there's always Halloween.
And a wedding to plan.
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