A fine line

Halloween came and went, another year of being too old to gather free candy. But not another year to skip on dressing up (or down, you'll see).

Rachel and I made a Goodwill run to get outfitted for the night. Perfect for my costume: a hobo. Rachel ended up dressing up like a redneck. I didn't allow myself to feel guilty for haplessly purchasing secondhand clothes, even as many folks actually, and seriously wear the clothes we sported in jest. After all, we were giving funds to GW, so they could stay open, right? Spent $12. Made a hobo suitcase with a broomstick and some grocery bags. Added a little makeup and I was good to go.

Here's where the fun started, at least in my mind. I was dressed like a hobo, but man did I look homeless. When you think about it, a hobo is funny; a homeless man is really sad. People gave me some strange glances at the party, but I assured them I was in fact a whimsical hobo, who would ride locomotives from town to town, living a lifestyle of the free spirit. But still they all looked like they wanted to give me money, yet worried I would just spend it on booze. Is the only difference between a hobo and a homeless guy their mode of transportation from town to town? Meh, I'm overthinking this. But I really should have invested in a corncob pipe. What do you think?

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