At least here in WT land it is. I’m not some party pooper. I like fire crackers on the 4th of July and sometimes when a campfire is involved. I just don’t find them to be necessary every stinking night when the weather happens to be warm. I know it’s the 4th of July eve today but as I lay here relaxing, it sounds like a barrage of gunfire outside. Save it for tomorrow, folks. You won’t hear a peep out of me tomorrow. But today I complain. As I will on Friday. If people light off fire crackers and such all the damn time, don’t they lose their special-ness? Meh. Perhaps 33 is the age I turn into a curmudgeonly old woman. Next year you’ll find me in my lawn looking and sounding like Bea Arthur. I’ll be wearing a smart pantsuit with giant shoulder pads and shaking my fist in the air at the neighborhood children causing a ruckus like a bunch of damn hooligans. Sigh. I always thought I’d be Blanche. I guess I’m doomed to be Dorothy instead.

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