At some point today, in between items 9 and 73 on my to-do list, I am planning to dig a few Halloween decorations out of the basement closet and throw them onto the front steps in a slapdash, last-minute attempt at seasonal decor. For the children.
If history teaches us anything, it is that - all profane protestations to the contrary - I will be going to the mall today, despite the fact that this is unreasonable, ridiculous and not particularly relevant to her costume theme.
But apparently, there is no other way to make a cat costume work. I know this now because the look she gave me when I suggested that any of the 45 pairs of black leggings she already owns could serve the same purpose - made it clear that a skater skirt is the difference between a cat costume that works and a cat costume fail.
Then, if I manage to accomplish nothing else, I will dig my skeleton hand wine goblets out of the cobweb covered boxes and pour myself a glass of something cheap and red. I may also pull out the remnants of the very tiny, very adorable cat costumes the children wore so many years ago and get a little nostalgic over a giant pile of Twizzlers.
It is a very sorry excuse for a holiday effort and I would apologize, but I know that you are only here for the cats.
Photo: My neighbor has a giant fucking cat.
from the History has Taught us Nothing archives: Tinkerbelle is so last week
from the costume bin: Hallowhat?