Willy Wonka's Got Nothing On Me

I'm pretty sure a diabetic would keel over just by walking across my threshold right now.

There is candy everywhere. EVERYWHERE. From the looks it, an entire regiment of Oompa-Loompas has set up shop in my kitchen.

How did it get this bad?

I bought two bags of candy late in September -- a 105-count bag of Blow Pops and a 290-count bag of Sweet-Tarts, Laffy Taffys, Nerds and Runts.

Late last week, I panicked. We have at least 40 kids in our neighborhood these days, I reasoned. I have enough candy for them. But what if we are flooded with adorable little visitors? What if the kids in our complex have friends over? What if I run out?

So I swung by Sam's Club and picked up a third bag. "Just in case," I told myself. "I won't open this one. I'll just keep it as insurance."

And last night?

We had seven trick-or-treaters. SEVEN.

Rumor has it that most of our neighbors took their kids to THE MALL to trick or treat in banal safety.

Meanwhile, Connor and Natalie trick-or-treated in our townhouse complex and were rewarded with handfuls of candy at each stop. Seems I wasn't the only person in our neighborhood to overestimate the amount of Halloween candy needed. Connor and Natalie actually had to come home every few houses to empty their buckets.

We even opened the door this morning to find one of our neighbors -- a single guy from India who appears completely amused at the Halloween frivolity -- handing us all the bags of candy he wasn't able to give out last night. He said he didn't want it in the house, and he figured we could use it.

Corey didn't have the heart to refuse him.

And that's how I ended up with 12 pounds of candy in my kitchen.

How many Operation Christmas Child boxes do you think I can fill?