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It’s spooky season, which means it’s time for my friend group to delve into all the fall activities. So far, I’ve carved a pumpkin, baked an apple crumble, worn my first turtleneck and my first sweater of the season, and––as we all know by now––I’m even listening to Christmas music.

(Summer has been dead to me for a long time. . .) 

Last weekend, I went apple picking and to a haunted house all in one day! That’s right––my friend group and I pride ourselves on being the most fall-ish, aesthetic, spooky-season masters of the area. 

I’m totally exaggerating, but next weekend, we are going on a cabin trip to Tennessee right when the leaves are peaking. What can I say? Fall is our festive time. 

Anyway, there I was on Saturday night standing in line for this haunted house, wishing I was back at my friend’s house watching a Halloween movie instead. 

It was cold, the line was literally over an hour and a half long, and by the time we actually got in the house, it was well past my bedtime. 

Dear diary: You know what I did last month? I spent almost my entire paycheck in two weeks. My twenty-four-year-old self, who buys pretty much only food and coffee and lives rent-free with my parents, absolutely freaked out. 

Was that necessary? No. I can afford to spend a paycheck on hairclips, earrings, and $7 lattes here and there. 

But my absentminded little “spree” sent me into a spiral of saving money, at least until I got back to where I had been when my paycheck had first been deposited into my checking account.

So on Saturday night, I did what I hadn’t planned on doing and spent $30 on this haunted house. My fall festivity was not worth the money I could’ve spent on. . . how many lattes? 

One of my best friends had bailed on the weekend plan because she had stated she didn’t like the demonic feeling of a haunted house. I had never been to one before, so I tried it out, and my experience? Not so scary, but definitely vulgar. 

Needless to say, I will not be supporting that again. No more profanity, evil masks, or all the people pretending to be possessed by the devil.

Now, I’m not throwing any stones at people who enjoy the thrill of a haunted house this time of year––it is certainly for those who enjoy the anticipation of being jumped out at.

But I went there. I saw it. I conquered it. And I can say confidently that I will spend the rest of my spooky season doing things a little less spooky. . . something like baking a pie I got at the apple orchard this weekend.