Another Halloween has come and gone in the Porter household. This year was a two-night extravaganza that involved two different costumes.
On night one, Saturday, my 12-year-old dressed as a parrot. This entailed my wife doing a lot of last-minute sewing of feathers, jewels and glitter. There was also an intense search for a shirt that was just the right shade of red.
Our neighbors graciously volunteered to take Cadyn along with their three kids to a ritzy part of town that was handing out candy the night before Halloween. They returned from the candy cavalcade with a haul that would make Willy Wonka envious. There were mounds of Mounds and her bag was bursting with Starburst.
Night 2 came, and this was going to be a more relaxed affair. Cadyn and the neighbor's children were simply going to trick-or-treat in our neighborhood. However, it was decided that the parrot costume was too complicated and confining to make a repeat appearance. Therefore, a witch costume from a previous year was recycled and called back into service. This involved a make-up change and a hunt for the proper scary shoes. Once the costume was complete, she headed out with her friends to add to her stockpile of sugar.
Meanwhile, as my wife prepared to hand out candy I was tasked with dealing with a monster of my own. Our washing machine decided to not wash our bedding correctly and was stuck in perpetual rinse mode.
I began my battle with this succubus of the spin cycle by attempting to rearrange the items in the machine in hopes that by balancing those out it would correct the problem. This failed as quickly as firing a silver bullet at Dracula. The beast just laughed at me and returned to pouring water into the tub.
Next, I decided to try balancing the load out with towels to make it stop the downpour. This, too, ended in frustration. Much like handing garlic to Frankenstein, the tub of terror would not relent with the rinsing.
It was at this point I knew I was no match for the creature. I had to find someone who knew the mind of a monster. I needed a modern-day version of Dr. Van Helsing. Who did I turn to? Dr. Van Google, of course.
After a furious few minutes of searching, Dr. Van Google provided the blueprint to defeating the barbarian. It laid out an ingenious plan worthy of Scooby and the gang. It showed me how to program the machine to bypass the rinse cycle completely. Dr. Van Google had given me the stake to drive through the heart of the agitating archfiend. The day was saved.
Of course, I did not leave this battle unscathed. By the time the bedding was dry and the bed was made it was way past my bedtime. On Monday, I was feeling the effects of Sunday night's battle with the nosferatu. I felt drained and out of sorts. I even checked my neck for bite marks afraid the ghoul had struck again in my slumber.
I remember as a kid watching TV commercial where the appliance repairman was always bored and lonely. After my encounter with the monster, I cannot fathom how this is possible. Perhaps he is under the spell of the fiend. We were never told his name in the commercials. I wonder why. Could it be his last name is Renfield?