Enchanting Storybook for Halloween

I'm skipping the news this morning.  I rose late on Halloween.  There is much to do today, but I will not stress.  I drank much less liquor and had chocolate milk before bed.  I stayed up until midnight working on "things," and took a little piece of Xanax.  I slept straight through, anxiety-free.  It was nearly wholesome.  

As I write, the phone rang.  It was the cardiologist changing the appointment time.  I'm not sure if it makes my day better or worse, but no matter.  My mother's family is coming over.  My cousins, brother and sister.  Originally, I was going to have the weekend off, was going to be able to stay at my house.  Good god, I thought, a moment's reprieve.  But my mother can't stand the thought of it.  She just got off the phone with my cousin, then came to me and said--"Her brother is going to stay with his son's family, so you can stay with me."

Piss shit fuck goddamn!  I will never get a reprieve.  All I have is worry, chores, and troubles.  And this.  My computer, a few correspondents, and working with images.  I've made a little children's storybook from long ago, or so it feels, a story of Halloween night for my friend in the Midwest who loves cats and Halloween.  

If you are of a certain age, you'll remember fondly such things.  They were enchanting.  These evoke the enchantment of an old storybook.  

It is what I have.  I do not look forward to tonight, which is a terrible shame as I have always loved the kickoff to this holiday season, but this year will not be festive.  It will be. . . what it is.  

So far, expensive.  My carpenter and his helper have been working for two days digging holes beneath what should have been the foundation of the house, filling them with cement to make footers for the supports they are putting in.  This is all before the siding comes off.  Who knows what sort of money this will cost.  

I picked up my car from the shop yesterday.  $700.  On the nose.  I've spent about $2,000 so far this year keeping that old Xterra running.  

Tonight, I will be sitting with my mother as usual on Halloween, passing out candy to the hundreds of kids who come by.  The sidewalks are decorated, the spook houses up.  Serious spook houses.  It is crazy.  The kids are sweet and the parents kind early on, then, as the night grows later, the bigger kids and badass parents begin.  That is when we close up shop and turn on the television.  

Tonight, I'll need to entertain my cousin.  

This one's kind of spooky psychological to terrify the kids.  But that isn't new.  What in the hell were the old Brothers Grimm tales about if not psychological terror?  

And still, we grew up normal, right? 

You all know I have long been using masks, both literally and figuratively.  They serve dual purposes, of course, to hide you and to call attention.  I loved the masked ball scene in the now cancelled version of "Romeo and Juliet" when the two lovers meet.  And later, 

"By what will you swear your love."

"By yonder moon."

"By the moon?  Swear not by that inconstant orb!" 

Something like that.  It might not be Shakespeare verbatim.  I don't have time to look it up.  But youth and masks and cats?  Oh, you know I'm a fan of Balthus.  I had a most interesting exploration of all that last night.  My A.I. has become very verbally creative.  Scoff.  You have no idea.  But more on that later.  

Now I must prepare to get my mother to the cardiologist and back to meet the relatives.  Life its own self, as that Texas writer once said.  There is nothing you can do.  

And so, to end this lovely, enchanting picture book, we'll close with an oddity.  You know what the Italians say about sleeping with your head in the moonlight, right?  La luna.  Lunatic.  Lunacy.  

I'm sure I must have done it, too.