Why I Hate The Fourth of July

A friend recently asked me if I was doing anything on the fourth, and the only reply that I could think of was "trying to get some sleep." The Fourth of July, like some other notable holidays, is distinguished by celebratation, loud celebration. While the fireworks themselves are loud enough, at least they end at a reasonable time. And they are nothing compared to the racuous, illegal firework-heavy entertainment that people cook-up themselves. As a result, I think I can confidently say that I hate all such holidays (New Year's Eve, UF winning the championship, Fridays...Saturdays). It's not that I don't like celebration—I'm fine with your loud, drunken party until around 11 o'clock. Then, I'd thank you to shut the hell up because I'd like to get some shut-eye.

If I haven't already mentioned this, I have a devil of a time getting to sleep. What's more, my apartment complex seems peopled with the kind of clueless college students who don't consider a 2 a.m. drunken hoot-filled swim disturbing. Hell, a middle-of-the-night ride in which one loudly proclaims "The British are coming!" is disturbing, but at least I'd feel as if I'd been wakened for good reason. "Damn colonists and their cups...What?!?...The British...right-o! ...let me grab a broom handle and some lye and I'll be right with you. Better yet, I'll just grab a drum..."

Let me just say that the sleep aids I have tried (and some of which I am currently using) include nasal strips, earplugs, not drinking a few hours before bed, a tempurpedic bed topper, locking my cat out, and a sound machine. It's not like I'm blaming this whole sleep-deficiency thing on the neighbors. Still, the biggest variable in my acquisition of a sound sleep are my obnoxious and unpredictible neighbors (ok, ok, and ass-early construction in the lot adjoining our complex). Yeah, I've called the police on these late-night partyiers, but it doesn't seem to have much lasting effect. I partly blame the booze, but making celebrities of them on G'ville's Police Beat doesn't help.

So, as the country celebrates its independence, I will, again, be contemplating my personal independence from insomnia (and the ensuing and persistent bad mood that tarnishes my otherwise sparkling personality). Who knows—I might actually persuade my neighbors to do something revolutionary...like taking the party inside.