Fourth of July started early this morning. At 2:40 AM, someone in our neighborhood started shooting off fireworks. I had been asleep before the fireworks started. Afterwards, I was definitely awake.
Though I’m not someone who typically does this, I decided that I was going outside to find out where it was coming from–half considering the possibility of calling the police, hoping that I could just ask the person to stop.
I walked down the sidewalk barefoot, in my pajamas, and more than a little grumpy.
Just a few houses down from us, I found the source of the problem. A man stood near the sidewalk while a woman and a young boy were sitting on the porch. I’m not sure precisely what he was saying, but it sounded like he was rhapsodizing about setting off fireworks alone with his son.
I’m guessing that that might have been the cause of the ridiculously early timing. There’s something about being the only person awake on a street in the summer.You can feel the breeze, see the darkened windows of the houses, and be awed at just how quiet it is.
I can imagine that it might be a great time to set off fireworks and feel like he’s setting them off alone with his family.
The trouble is, he’s not setting them off alone with his family. He’s setting them off when everyone else in the neighborhood is trying to sleep.
I told him so–sort of. I told him that I’d been sleeping and that it was nearly three in the morning. He took over the conversation from there, saying that all the really loud ones were done, that he was almost finished, and that it was, after all, only once a year.
I left. I didn’t want to discuss it. I just wanted him to stop.
By the time I went to bed, he had exploded the last one and the night was once again quiet, but, to be honest, I’m still grumpy.