Quiet Halloween Weekend.

I'd never been much for Halloween.

Getting dressed up, while fun, is always too much of a production. I never become fully vested in a costume because for anything to be done right, I should've been planning it since last year. I can barely make a long term plan, much less a year long commitment to next year's Halloween.

The usual insanity swirling around Halloween can be a bit over the top. It's good and bad, depending on how you look at it. It's also amateur weekend too. Most people who never go out, do. You'll see them, hunched over, throwing up or passed out. Moderation isn't in the night's vocabulary.

Still, I did have hopes to do something. However, in the end, I did nothing and I was perfectly fine with it.

Friends, S and R, had their Halloween party on Friday night. I'd thought to make this my first stop of many but it ended up being my one and only stop. It was rainy and a miserable night to be out. I hung out with friends whom I hadn't seen in a while, really chill.

Saturday. Hmm… couldn't even tell you what I did because I don't remember.

Oh yes, I never left the house. Wow.

Sunday. Two weeks back, I'd informed my manager that I'd may consider taking Monday, October 30th, off. On Friday, he boasted, "I'll be sick on Monday, so I won't be in." Afterwards, I gently reminded him of my day off to which he responded, "It would be nice if you were in."
That nixed any thought or desire to go out that night.

10:30PM found me curled up on the couch with a crossword puzzle and
Death Cab for Cutie quietly crooning in my ears.

It was relaxing but I was brooding a little. The BF had gone out earlier and had come back a little whacked (see drunk). He'd fallen asleep on the couch and when the phone rang, attempted to answer the cable remote. He got snippy as I repeated myself, pointing out that the remote will not pick up the phone. He chided, "Well, you're not answering it."

In the evening's last bout of drunkenness before retiring to bed, the BF walked in to the kitchen, asking me, "Where's the extra?"
"Extra what?" as I could hardly contain my amusement.
"The extra." he responded.
"Do you hear yourself?" I chuckled.
Then words started to fall out of his mouth, "Black… fighter… extra."
I think his mind was permeated by too much Justice League Unlimited, of which, he watched at least 20 episodes this weekend.

I laughed and he called me an ass, which put off me off.

Sorry if I don't speak drunkenese.

This morning, I told him about his surliness. He apologized. All he could recall is frustration at not being able to express a word.

Duh!

Drink-induced aphasia is funny I guess.

I'm all well-rested now and I'm sure by week's end, all antsy.