A staple-gun year
Halloween night some of the folks from my local extended family, the Albuquerque Science Fiction Society, kindly had some of us over for pizza and scary movies while our host and hostess handed out candy to kiddos. Of whom there weren’t all that many, probably owing to the fact it was windy as hell. Provided Hell’s windy, I suppose; you’d probably have some, uh, demon convection going on.
Anyway, the reason I was so pleased (other than the fact I live alone except for the critters and tend to get a little company-starved) is that whereas some years I eagerly anticipate the joys of handing out candy to the little goblins, other years I’d rather spend the evening shooting myself in the thigh with a staple gun.
This was a staple-gun year.