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A ‘clean’ costume for this Halloween event

If I invested as much energy in my normal day-to-day living as I do in the weeks leading up to Halloween as I contemplate what costume I’ll don or create, my life probably would be pretty amazingly mapped out.

However …

When trunk-or-treat draws near in the church parking lot, I plunge into what-will-I-be mode.

Oh, the possibilities, I begin to think to myself internally and out loud as well to generate feedback and inspiration, if not from myself as a you-go-Janice cheerleader, hopefully from Better Half.

As a refresher, I review past outfits, not wanting to duplicate efforts. Let’s see, I was a horse; a big giant dog; a purr-fect cat; good old iconic Santa Claus, thanks to a $5 steal-of-a-deal outfit find at a rummage sale; and a strip of bacon with all the breakfast fixings. Imagine my morning-meal delight when a trick-or-treater who visited was dressed as — no yoke here — an egg sunny side up.

All well and good it was for those past outfits, although it’s always surprising that what seems like a kid-friendly get-up prompts some tears and fears from younger trick-or-treaters.

Gift-bearing or not, old St. Nick isn’t always that jolly a sight to some in the under-6 Oct. 31 candy-craving crowd.

This year brings the challenge to not only come up with a costume, but also to socially distance and follow safety guidelines in this COVID-19 world we now live in and adjust to accordingly.

I like to participate in trunk-or-treat since living where houses are more spread out means kids are less inclined to walk and come rapping on the door, in search of candy.

Not so with trunk-or-treat in a prime location.

So in my “research” of costume possibilities this year, I decided I would depart from the animal, food and Christmas icon look and be an inanimate object instead, something easy to pull off and something that people would understand what exactly I was.

Nothing is more deflating than to have people wonder what you’re supposed to be.

As an adult creeping toward Medicare enrollment in the coming years, I’m often wondering that myself, costume or not.

I decided to be a washing machine in honor of a household chore I don’t mind doing. I’ve never understood why people complain about washing clothes when the machine does the bulk of the work.

Better Half, a.k.a. Donny Downer, was not impressed, suggesting that I make it easy on myself (and him) and simply pass out candy, or if I must, put on a western hat and be a cowgirl.

If this column had audio, you would hear me making that “TCH” clucking noise in disgust.

My biggest challenge was finding a big box, a search that makes you realize people are big-box hoarders, reluctant to part with them.

You never know when you’ll need a big box, so the reasoning goes.

But I managed to find one and from that point on, the accessories have all fallen into place, including the presence of a sock monster or two for good measure.

I read somewhere that socks lost in the laundering process return as Tupperware lids that don’t fit anything.

That explains why I can’t get that one kitchen cupboard door to shut properly.

(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)

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