I love a good fireworks show. A good, PROFESSIONAL fireworks show. Watching them last night with the boys screaming and dancing around ... now THAT'S A SHOW!
The amateur let's-go-light-some-bottle-rockets-in-the-driveway do not impress. In fact, they're quite annoying. Especially when your driveway is barely 20 feet from my driveway. And particularly when your bottle rockets land in my yard for me to clean up.
All in the spirit of the holiday, I have kept quiet about all the illegal firworks in the neighborhood. Even though my local police have advertised a zero-tolerance policy for this year, I have not reported any of the neighborhood shenanigans. I'm sure there's worse goings on somewhere else, so I leave well enough alone.
But the holiday is over. So, for the next month, I become the Fireworks Scrooge. Until every last one is confiscated and the noise finally dies down, I will rant and rave and complain and YES, I WILL CALL THE POLICE.
Because ... I'm the Fireworks Scrooge.
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