I don’t get Hallowe’en.
I try, I promise, but I’ve never really been into it; I’ve never been the one who gets excited about dressing in outrageous costumes or drawing attention to myself and how I look, and I’ve never really enjoyed Trick’r’Treating, either (When I was a kid, lo those many years ago, it was still called “galoshing” in Scotland. Although, looking at that word there, I wonder how badly I’ve misspelled it. “Galoshin’,” maybe? “Galloshing”?), so the whole holiday feels like a strange waste of energy and attention to me. I feel like the Grinch saying that, especially now that I live in America, a country that seems to consider Hallowe’en a national holiday on par with Christmas and Thanksgiving, but it’s true; when people talk about going to parties or getting dressed up, I find myself shying away mentally and thinking “Eh, you’re all crazy.”
I’d call it a sign of getting old, but I was always like this.