I've always looked forward to October. October meant Halloween. As a diehard horror fan who frequently dreamed of being someone else for a day as well as an equal supporter of free candy, it was the sort of holiday Tailor-made for me. While puberty has done little to dampen the excitement it has ruined my trick or treating prospects significantly. Children dressed up as ninja's receive miniature crunch bars and adoration on the 31st when they show up on your doorstep. A thirty year old woman dressed like a ballerina gets a door slammed in her face at best. At worst the authorities are notified. Not that I've done that or speak from experience. I just read about it on a forum. Honest. I now spend my spooky day marathoning the crappy Netflix horror movies, or trying to conjure up the spirit of my dead. You know, normal adult shit.

In addition to Halloween, for the past twelve years October has also meant Nick's birthday. Aka, my husband to be. A term in which I use in the literal sense and not in the fantastical way in which I occasionally refer to Jason Mantzoukas. Unlike Jason, Nick listened to Beyonce's Single Ladies song like a cautionary tale and heeded her ultimate warning. Not wanting to catch me up in the club with another brotha, he put a very large ring on it. Because he likes it. My very conservative parents heaved a semi sigh of relief to know that while we're still boldly living in sin, there is a definitive light at the end of this lustful tunnel in the form of a summer marriage. On the 27th, he turns one year older and regardless of the shenanigans I'll host in his honor, just like all the years prior I'll consider myself lucky to have shared it with him.

Essentially October marks the inevitable end. The literal final countdown to the New Year can technically begin and usually does. Christmas commercials will start to invade your television screens in what seems to be far too soon but isn't really because before you know it you're scrambling trying to make sure you've gotten gifts for everyone who's likely to give you one. Or that could just be projecting because that's how my December always looks. Here too soon. Gone too fast. And last but not least October means I'm a little bit closer to reclaiming the hour snatched away from me in the name of daylight savings. To which as an old person who has had an ongoing affair with my bed for several years now, is better than the Halloween treats I used to get.