Wednesday night Brad and I left the festivities pretty early. I took a shower and settled in to watch some t.v., but the sky was exploding all around the house. I’ll admit it – I don’t like fireworks anymore. The pretty ones put on by the professionals? Yes. The quiet, sparkly ones that spin or ‘fountain’ in the driveway? Yes. The concussive ones that sound like gunshots or bombs? No. A thousand times no. They bug me and I think about all the pets and animals that must think their world is ending and there’s nothing they can do about it.
I went down to the basement and strung up the hammock. From there I could only hear the neighbor’s booms. As I watched YouTube videos on my iPad, I was joined by a friend.
Awww…. Ralph likes the swinging bed. He left a couple of times but always returned, purring and making it swing.
The last time he returned I was sound asleep, and his back foot landed on my face.
Claws out, for stability.
I now have a scratch on my cheek, supervillain-style.
So, maybe all those bad guys didn’t get their trademark scars from doing battle with the good side. Maybe they were just trying to get some peaceful rest and were interrupted by an idiot cat.
Brad says
Your scratch is elegant. It’s like the “wounds” that movie stars get in action movies -- a delicate scratch on their beautiful face.
Lloyd says
Does that make me a henchman?
Lauren's mom says
We had a good, but strange fourth! I was going to have brats and potato salad and cherry cobbler. But I just didn’t feel like cooking. So we went to McDonald’s and then to confluence lake to see all the people camped out, reserving their spot. Then We got a blizzard at Dairy Queen, and went home.
Deborah says
I’m with you about the fireworks. I also think about the shift workers that need to sleep, the babies (and their parents), and the military vets. Why do we need to do this for an entire week?
And I need to see your scar.