I Choose Darkness

by Jenny Lawson

This is month 1,792 of living in a pandemic (I may have lost count), and sometimes you need all the twinkling lights and Star Wars ornaments you can get in your life.

The whole house is a delight. A dark, bizarre, slightly unsettling delight. Just like Halloween.

This was a gentle and naive time before the internet, when all our information came from urban legends and terrifying local news reports.

“Can playing records backward hypnotize your children?”

only maniacs give out apples for Halloween, and none of us were falling for that bullshit.

Me: But I need to finish Netflix. My editor: Finish what on Netflix? Me: Just finish Netflix. All of it. I think I’m close. My editor: You can’t finish Netflix. Me: Well, that sounds like a challenge. Also, clearly you haven’t had the same pandemic I have. My editor: Back to work, weirdo.

Lisa wears the witch costume because, while pleasing God is important, he’s not paying the bills, y’all.

This was the night I discovered that bored parents can be dangerous and that it is very hard to wash urine out of tennis shoes.

(Wait . . . are pumpkin seeds vegetables? Because nuts and seeds are protein, so doesn’t that mean they’re meat? Hang on. Let me google it. Decide among yourselves which team you’re on. Jesus Christ. Google says pumpkins are fruits. WORST BERRY EVER.)

does the ghost have lipstick drawn on? Me: Yeah. And blonde hair and hair bows and very impressive eyebrows and eyelashes. Because we had to make sure people knew she was a girl ghost. Even dead girls have to be attractive. Misogyny really did a number on us.