Willowmist's Wanderings

Seriously, who schedules a World Series baseball game on a major holiday? 

Do you know how many houses in our neighbourhood were closed and dark instead of lit up with pumpkins and handing out candy to our merry little trick or treaters?  How many people bought tickets and drove into the city to watch the Phillies lose to the Yankees in the rain instead of staying home to participate in neighbourhood comradery?

I don’t blame the neighbours entirely.  How can I expect them all to prioritize their lives with anything beyond their usual selfish shortsightedness?  But I am truly disappointed in a Major League Baseball team that would place their stupid trophy ahead of a childhood memory.  And don’t tell me that a second World Series championship in Philadelphia is a great childhood memory.  One:  it was game 3, no one was going to win anything on that specific evening.  Two:  it was a night game.  There weren’t more than a dozen kids at that game.  Three:  they fucking lost!  There was no reason on god’s green earth that the game couldn’t have waited until Sunday.

So it rained.  Vaughan was a ninja and he assured me that ninjas don’t mind the rain.  His father was a Jedi and, apparently, a Jedi can will the rain off his body or something.  I was a cat.  a cat with an umbrella.  The only forward-thinking creature in our threesome because cats don’t like to get wet.  We trick-or-treated through the drizzle.  We trick-or-treated through the showers.  We covered about two blocks before the downpour conquered our desire for free candy and forced us indoors.  We made out better than you might expect.  Most folks figured that the rain would lighten their candy traffic so they tended to hand out extras to those of us who did show up.

Happy November 2 everyone.