The house where that crazy lady lives

Harper has decided her bedtime is 9:00, not 7:00. I tried to convince her otherwise for a couple of nights, but she was would not have it. She is a baby, and cannot tell time. So, now her bed time is 9:00 (which was my bedtime). This means I don’t get ‘off work’ for another 2 hours, just in time to have a few sips of a Corona and hit the hay.

9:15 last night, fireworks. That’s right, fireworks on July 24th; what could they be celebrating? In the middle of the city; what could they be thinking? The dog hid in the shower. I threw my trench coat on over my jammies and headed out into the street, in a hissy.

There were two men walking across the street. They were pretty unassuming, in a clean-cut-Midwestern-former-frat-boy way. Pastel polo shirts and khaki cargo shorts. I began to yell at them from our stoop.

“Are ya’ll setting off those fire works? Because I JUST PUT MY FUCKING BABY TO SLEEP!”

“No. I think it is our neighbor…”

Very long awkward pause.

“Oh.” It hit me that I was acting like a crazy person. I just turned around and went back into our house. No apology. No asking the neighbor who was setting off fireworks to stop. Just the kinda of embarrassment you want to run and hide from. And so I took off my trench coat and went back to bed. I guess I’m the crazy lady on the block now.

We are renters, we’ll move eventually.

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