Zero trick-or-treaters. Nada. Zilch.

I expected a handful. My wife and I live in a suburb of Boulder, Colorado. Lots of kids around. During the afternoon a raucous group enjoyed a cookout with a piñata and games at our neighbor’s Halloween party. I figured I’d see them later, they come by every year.

The governor and county officials discouraged trick-or-treating, but I predicted a few kids, especially the middle-schoolers, would break out and storm around. I would have as a kid, whined until my mom relented.

By eight o’clock, I decided to give any kids who came by our entire bowl of candy. No takers.

Maybe someone will come to our house selling something? If so, they’ll get a treat.

Maybe I’ll go toss it over the fence to those kids with the piñata? Candy from heaven? Or, candy from their crazy old neighbor? They’re rowdy boys, they’ll eat it.

Actually, tomorrow the candy goes to my office, running at only 1/3 capacity, which means I’ll eat most of the candy at work instead of at home. Feels more productive.

(FYI, the 100 Grand bar in the red wrapper is no longer available. Neither are any of the Butterfingers).