This past Halloween marked a turning point. For the first time in recent memory, I did not use fake cobwebs in my Halloween decorating. And I was okay with that.
I have nothing against fake cobwebs. They have been an integral part of my Halloween preparations for longer than I care to remember. When used well, they enhance atmosphere. Creepiness. Visual appeal.
When used well.
And therein lies the problem. Not with the cobwebs. With me.
Because when it comes to fake cobwebs, I just don't know when to quit. I can't help myself. I try. I really do. I begin slowly. Stretching the webs until they are thin, gossamer-like and understated. But do I stop there? Do I simply walk away? No. Because if a few cobwebs are good, more must be better. And better. And better. Until finally, I am faced with this degree of devastation.
I was clearly out of control.
But this year, I resolved that it would be different. This year, I would not purchase fake cobwebs. This year, I would not open the extra bag of cobwebs purchased last year (because you never know when you might need more). This year, I would stop before I had even begun.
Halloween approached. Out came the tombstones. And the graveyard fence. And the dead trees. And the candles. And the torn cheesecloth curtains. But the fake cobwebs remained unopened. Safely out of sight.
Halloween night came and went. Completely free of fake cobwebs. And I was fine with it (or without it). It was actually quite liberating. I may never use fake cobwebs again. Much like silvery Christmas tinsel and plastic Easter grass, they will now reside only in the realm of distant memories and old photographs. But I'll keep that unopened bag. Just in case.
I have nothing against fake cobwebs. They have been an integral part of my Halloween preparations for longer than I care to remember. When used well, they enhance atmosphere. Creepiness. Visual appeal.
When used well.
And therein lies the problem. Not with the cobwebs. With me.
Because when it comes to fake cobwebs, I just don't know when to quit. I can't help myself. I try. I really do. I begin slowly. Stretching the webs until they are thin, gossamer-like and understated. But do I stop there? Do I simply walk away? No. Because if a few cobwebs are good, more must be better. And better. And better. Until finally, I am faced with this degree of devastation.
I was clearly out of control.
But this year, I resolved that it would be different. This year, I would not purchase fake cobwebs. This year, I would not open the extra bag of cobwebs purchased last year (because you never know when you might need more). This year, I would stop before I had even begun.
Halloween approached. Out came the tombstones. And the graveyard fence. And the dead trees. And the candles. And the torn cheesecloth curtains. But the fake cobwebs remained unopened. Safely out of sight.
Halloween night came and went. Completely free of fake cobwebs. And I was fine with it (or without it). It was actually quite liberating. I may never use fake cobwebs again. Much like silvery Christmas tinsel and plastic Easter grass, they will now reside only in the realm of distant memories and old photographs. But I'll keep that unopened bag. Just in case.