Writing is a journey, not a destination.

Search This Blog

Friday, July 5, 2013

Well, I Survived...

the 4th, that is.

Independence Day is my most hated holiday (although I loved the movie). I've hated it as long as I can remember. I hate the loud, I hate the explosions and I hate the absolute inconsideration of normally nice-seeming folks. It's like everybody acts like a cigarette smoker for a day.

I don't stay up to the wee hours of the morning. I get up in the wee hours of the morning. I also work July 5th, so setting off sonic booms after midnight is not how you get on my good side.

I've had worse years. The year the college students in the rental across the way shot Roman candles at each other at 2 AM. The year the neighbors right behind me shot bottle rockets (then illegal in the city and now illegal in the state) into my back yard because they were trying to be sneaky. Last year when the drought and 100 degree temperatures weren't enough to prevent anyone from using open flames because, apparently, some people can't live without being completely stupid at least once a year.

My favorite year was the year thunderstorms shut down the fireworks display at the lake. No one could shoot anything in that deluge. I slept like a well-fed baby.

For the most part, my neighbors behaved themselves. Only one household three houses down was determined to celebrate personally, but they set off enormous, loud explosions in their backyard starting at 7:30 and didn't stop until about 12:30 (half an hour after the fireworks curfew). On the other hand, they did stop finally so I could get four hours of sleep.

Neighbors behind me left their poor dog on the back porch until sometime around 11:30. I assume they went to the lake for the evening. It howled and howled for four hours straight. If I didn't think they'd be the kind to sue, I would have trespassed, stolen the dog for the night and brought it back this morning with a lecture.

This year we've had enough rain that I wasn't overly concerned about burning alive in my bed. I just can't sleep through that kind of battlefield noise. I also have the weekend to look forward to, when the morons who don't care about law and order illegally set off all the fireworks they'll buy at half-price today.

I don't know whether I should hope work is boring or exciting. Either way, I'll be half-asleep.

Happy Friday, dear readers. And Happy Birthday, America. Love you. Hate your inconsiderate party guests.


  1. ALL fireworks are illegal here. To buy. To possess. To use. It only rains in winter, so it gets very dry during summer. I never even saw a sparkler until I went to my grandmother's in Alabama one summer. They were pretty enough, but the amount of TV PSAs about the danger (those suckers are like 1000 degrees or something) really freaked me out and I never cared after that that we did not have fireworks here. Of course, there are people who smuggle them across the border from Mexico, but if they are bothering ANYONE, we can get them in huge trouble, not for noise pollution, but for violation of state fire regulations. So the only noise we really have to deal with is the public shows that are almost universally at 9PM. By 9:30, the big problem is traffic. But by 10, it's quiet again. I think we have more people shooting off illegal fireworks on New Years Eve than in July. Maybe the border patrol isn't as vigilant about fireworks in January. Although just as annoying to have to put up with the bangs, at least it's less of a fire concern. Still illegal, but slightly safer.

    I'm sorry you have such inconsiderate neighbors that make the holiday so miserable for you. I am not a big holiday person, but I love summer so much that Independence Day gets a pass.

  2. You'd love it here on New Years Eve ;-). The entire country goes firework crazy from 10am through to the next morning. During our first year here, the landlord gleefully announced that they would be having a big "feest" (party). By midnight, everything was pretty quiet so we figured we'd missed it. Then the music started in a barn across the dirt road at the back of the house. It was so loud, even earplugs didn't help. The house literally shook. They finally turned the sound system off at 7am. Next year, we were ready, but there are still certain songs I can't listen to without getting tired.

  3. Kansans shoot fireworks on New Year's, too. Far as I know, it's illegal, but they do it anyway.

    Really, other than the after-curfew thing, this year's neighbors have been by far the most considerate, and if I liked fireworks, I could have sat in my backyard and had a great free view of all five hours of the show. I'm just a born party pooper.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.