I live in a city and state that allows every Tom, Dick and Harry to shoot off fireworks. And in my neighborhood, they do. They start days before, often before dark and it goes on for weeks afterwards.
Loud unexpected noises make me jump and more than occasionally scream. However, I haven’t screamed this year. In the case of the fireworks – it sets all my fight or flight nerves on edge and I end up with some irrational anxiety over things I know won’t hurt me in my bedroom.
I have one neighbor who doesn’t go for the sparkly fireworks that go off with a muted pop. He enjoys the bombs. He sets them off days before and continues straight through. And then just randomly during the summer he will get a hankering and just shoot off a dozen or so. It a nightmare.
Last night another neighbor started his fireworks at 11 pm and kept it going to 1 am. Thankfully it was all sparkly muted pops. But still – its a bit much.
Then there’s the guy who in the midst of the biggest mess of fireworks going on all over the damn city pulls out a gun and starts shooting in the air. Now, I know I’m being a killjoy here, but bullets shot straight up have to come down somewhere. People have died that way too. And that doesn’t even account for the blood alcohol level of someone handling a live weapon. Well. Lets face it. I am a killjoy.
I don’t make a thing about it to anyone who is enjoying their family fireworks. I just complain to friends and write a whining blog about it.
I just think that in a sane world – fireworks would only be handled by professionals. And set off in public places far from me.
Grouchy Sara is grouchy.