The Day After

We survived another 4th of July. I say that, not because I'm ungrateful for living in the US of A, because I truly am, but because the people who live in my neighborhood have an insatiable need for blowing things up until all hours of the night. They started around 4 PM Thursday with the legal pyrotechnics, but by 7 PM last night, the bombs from the reservation came out. At 8 PM, the firetruck came up the street. How it was able to navigate through the yellow smoke, is a mystery. I put Annie to bed around 8:30, and she promptly fell asleep, even though the pictures were dropping off her bedroom walls. At about 10 PM, the smell of sulphur started closing off my bronchials, so I shut the windows. At 1 AM, the last explosive went off. I know, I should count myself lucky--you lit off your last one at 1:30.

Next year, I'm praying for rain.

Jean