Let me tell you a tale of good intentions, rural isolation, and the elastic waistband pants I now wear exclusively.
Back in October, I decided to be the cool house on my road. You know the one. The house that gives out the GOOD candy. Not those weird orange and black wrapped peanut butter things from the clearance bin. Not pennies. Not toothbrushes. I was going to hand out full-sized candy bar excellence, and I bought six boxes of this Mars variety pack to make it happen.
Here is what I failed to account for: I live in what real estate agents generously call a "quiet rural setting" and what trick-or-treaters call "way too far to walk for candy." On Halloween night, I sat on my porch like a hopeful puppy, bowl overflowing with Snickers, Twix, Milky Way, and 3 Musketeers bars. I had 108 candy bars ready to distribute joy to the youth of America.
Seven kids showed up. Seven.
I tried to compensate. "Take a handful!" I encouraged the first group. They each politely took one bar and said thank you. What happened to greedy children? Where are the kids who would dump your entire bowl into their pillowcase? These tiny humans had MANNERS. It was devastating. I practically chased a vampire down my driveway trying to force Twix bars into his bag. His mother looked concerned.
By the end of the night, I had given away maybe 15 bars. That left me with roughly 93 candy bars and a moral dilemma.
Reader, I ate them. I ate them all.
Not in one sitting, obviously. I'm not an animal. I rationed them responsibly, which in my case meant "two to four bars daily as a reward for existing." The Snickers became my afternoon pick-me-up. The Twix were my "I survived another Monday" celebration. The Milky Way bars were dessert. The 3 Musketeers were breakfast. Don't judge me.
Here's the thing though: every single bar was absolutely delicious. The variety kept things interesting. Just when I'd think "maybe I should stop," I'd remember there was still a Snickers in the pantry with my name on it. The chocolate was smooth, the caramel was perfectly chewy, and the quality was consistent across all 108 bars. Even bar number 97, consumed on January 19th while watching true crime documentaries in my stretchy pants, was as satisfying as bar number one.
Is my belt currently stored in a drawer because it no longer fits comfortably? Yes. Do I regret purchasing six boxes of premium chocolate variety bars? Absolutely not. Would I do it again? I've already bookmarked this page for next October.
Five stars for the candy. Zero stars for my self-control. Three additional stars for the memories.
If you're buying these for actual trick-or-treaters, maybe assess your neighborhood foot traffic first. If you're buying these for yourself but need a socially acceptable excuse, Halloween works great. Either way, the chocolate is fantastic and your future self wearing elastic waistbands will thank you.
