My neighbors like fireworks. I mean they REALLY like fireworks. We have lived here for more than ten years. I know this. But it is like shuttle landings – I know when they are going to happen. I set up meeting reminders for launches and landings. But the sonic booms that shake the entire house scare the shit out of me - Every. Single. Time. I should understand the way fireworks work around here by now. But apparently I don't.
It goes like this:
New Years – Can't see the car for the smoke. Check, check, check.
Valentine's Day – Check.
St Patrick's Day - Green ones. (Hey – wait a minute. They are from Puerto Rico….. St Patrick's???) Check.
Memorial Day – Ah, mostly white and the really loud ones. Check.
July 4th – OMG, I didn't know those were LEGAL for home use…..Check, check, check, check…..
Hmmm – maybe there is a pattern here?
Today is Labor Day. I know this. I had to work, the stores closed early, I've known this ALL DAY. So, when loud squeals began to fill the air a little while ago did I open the front door and wave to my neighbors? Drag a chair out onto the driveway to watch the show? NO. I frantically searched the house, trying to find the cat who was stuck, in pain, or otherwise disturbed. Lily was on the bed beside me, ears rotating like little radar units, but OK. Kasey, Bu, Buddy – all fine. It took a while to find Wocket, but she was in the front window, also fine, watching….the neighbor's fireworks. Red ones. Check.