Journal of a Sabbatical

October 31, 2000

doorbell

Today's Reading: Circling the Sacred Mountain by Robert Thurman and Tad Wise

Cold and rainy just the way I remember Halloween's being when I was a kid. There's nothing quite like kicking through wet leaves in a costume you can't see out of ...

I don't particularly like Halloween and I'm not prepared for trick or treaters.

I spent most of the day (after unproductive therapy and wildly productive coffee conversation with Philosophy Larry and Tom & Julie) finishing up the MRFRS newsletter so I can get it reproduced tonight (Kinko's in Salem, NH is open 24 hours) and mail it out tomorrow. I was so focused on getting it finished tonight that I didn't notice it getting dark. As I was finishing up the very last page, my doorbell rang.

My doorbell hasn't worked for months.

The porch light and hall light are off. I did not turn them on and Pajama Woman isn't home so she didn't turn them on either.

I hear feet shuffling in the front hall.

It takes me a few minutes to get downstairs. I look out the peephole. There is no one out there. I look outside to see if someone just left. There is no one walking in either direction on the walkway.

My doorbell hasn't worked for months.

No time to puzzle over this as I've got to get the newsletter out. I print out the master copy on high contrast paper (it photocopies better than way), stick it inside a book so it won't get wet, and head for Kinko's.

I see not one single kid trick or treating along any of the streets.

While Kinko's is making 160 copies of the newsletter, I go to the Rockingham Park Mall (actually I think it's called the Mall at Rockingham Park but that's so pretentious ... it's the mall they built next to the horse racing track) for a quick supper and to shop for flannel pajamas as winter is getting to me. The mall is full of trick or treaters going from store to store. That must be the new thing.

After a tomato, mozzarella, and pesto sandwich, I fail to find decent pajamas but do end up buying two flannel shirts at the Gap. They seem cozy and I need cozy.

Back at home laden with newsletters and flannel shirts, I notice Pajama Woman still isn't home. She who loves Halloween and whose unit is all decorated for it, has not shown up to hand out the treats. The porch light and the hall light are still off.

And my doorbell doesn't work.