The Fourth of July has come and gone and yet bombs continue to burst throughout my nights. No—my marriage is not going through a mid-life renewal, complete with fireworks. I just have teenage neighbors that enjoy exploding things. They enjoy it so much they must have spent their entire year’s allowance on firecrackers.
The Fireworks Ban is just another of those annoying little laws that apparently nobody follows. Like speed limits and picking up after your dog. Some rules are just meant to be broken.
Of course we like rules that don’t pertain to us personally. I’m all for adding laws against people that wear spandex in public or ride bicycles in traffic. This isn’t Japan after all.
But don’t take away my right to drive a big old honking SUV and carry a six-shooter. I don’t actually have a six-shooter, but I want the right to!
As for fireworks exploding into my REM time, they will eventually peter out and my nights will once again be filled with snores and the swishing of the ceiling fan. The dogs will have nothing to bark at but the next-door neighbor coming home on his Harley, or one of my grown children sneaking in in the middle of the night. All will be as it was before we celebrated Independence from the King of England.
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