Friday night.

While the city is teeming with 20-somethings, adorned in every costume conceivable, flocking to bars and parties to ring in another Halloween, here I lounge.

I'm careful to keep the volume of the TV down; I don't want to wake Brooklyn and, really, it's only background noise while I aimlessly peruse the internet, stopping intermittently to sip on a glass of cheap wine that may or may not have been poured from a jug.

Although, to some, this might be the definition of depressing, it's perfectly okay by me. There are benefits to unwinding alone and I just happen to be kind enough to list them for my fellow comrades who are reading:

1. Two hundred dollars will not mysteriously disappear from my bank account tonight because of my giving heart and penchant for buying a round for the bar the very moment I've had too much to drink.
2. I will not be stuck on the F train platform for an hour tonight, holding my breath while the garbage train rolls through the station, and praying to the Oscar the Grouch that my train will show up in time for me to not piss my costume pants. (What would I be for Halloween, you ask? Ha. Wouldn't you like to know?...actually, I would, too...)
3. My purse is safe and sound, sitting on my bed right now, as opposed to lying forgotten on the ground, mopping up the drink that an enthusiastic Jon-Gosselin-costume-wearing fool just spilled.
4. My dignity is still somewhat in tact (Carlos Rosse excluded) instead of being paraded about town in blister-spawning 4-inch hooker boots that apparently come standard with every whore-a-ween costume for women out there. (That's it! I should go as a hooker for Halloween one year...I wonder if anyone will know what I am supposed to be...)
5. On that note, Brooklyn's last thought before falling asleep tonight was NOT, "Why does mommy look like a slut?" (hush.)
6. Staying home affords me the opportunity to make superior comments and grinch-like observations about sloppy people who enjoy making asses out of themselves on Halloween. (See what I did there? No? Meh.)
7. While you lose brain cells, my Scrabble game continues to improve and...eh, I got nothing.

Anyone know a good babysitter?