Have I told you lately how much I hate the 4th of July? In itself, not a bad holiday. It’s just that in my neighborhood, Independence Day seems to bring out the most annoying neighborly activities. Namely, loud music, large gatherings, and a plethora of explosions. And this is the worst year yet. Seriously, 4th of July is a bigger draw around here than Christmas. Nothin’ says family lovin’ like blowin’ things up!
We live outside of city limits so fireworks abound. I should have realized the extent of our siege when I looked out our front window at 7 tonight and saw our across-the-street neighbor wielding a portable propane blowtorch. Yep, apparently matches are out of style. Ya can’t use just anything to light the hundred of dollars’ worth of fireworks you’re setting off. My sister pointed out that maybe this is all just natural selection at work.
In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little cranky. 
I told Nathan I should’ve bummed some of Duffy’s sedatives from my parents (he turns even more neurotic when he hears thunder and firecrackers). Nathan, in his characteristically sympathetic manner, shrugged and suggested, “Well, if you’re going to get all jumpy and start eating pillows, go for the buckwheat not the fiberfill.”
Ohhhh, Nathan. You have GOT to love that man!