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fatrockstarThis is the first Independence Day I've had in a long time without Garret. He didn't like to go out to fireworks, preferring to watch them on TV or skip them altogether. If we did go out, it was because his mother invited us to a family gathering at their place. As someone who previously went out of her way to see such things, it was a disappointment to me that my husband wusband did not share my enthusiasm for wanting to live out and about.
I probably could have gone out to the whole "4th of JulIvar's" thing if I had the inclination. It's what my unmarried self would have done. Instead, I sat at home with Grady and made sure he was okay. He's agitated and curious, but I wasn't in the mood to take any chances.
Instead I listened to all the explosions and thought about how loud and scary they were, and felt sorry for myself for not going outside to socialize with my neighbors. There are a lot of cul-de-sacs in my neighborhood, each with their own set of pyromaniacs. By this time next year I could be living somewhere else. Maybe I should have done something special this time around.
I look at Grady and feel a mix of contentedness and sadness. I didn't want a cat. I don't resent his presence -- I'm very protective of him, actually -- but I often think of picking up and leaving for an extended period, and I can't do that without upsetting him and he doesn't travel well. Poor lil' guy.
Maybe by Hallowe'en I'll stop feeling sad around major holidays. Last Hallowe'en I had to endure a dumbass-alien-themed pumpkin (carved by Garret and that tweetybird-lookin', orthopedic-shoe-wearing fuckface he stabbed me in the back with) on my porch. I still hate her so much...
But anyway, it's half-past midnight here and it still sounds like a war zone outside. It does not sound like celebration. It sounds like panic. Panic and fear and intimidation. I'm not going to sleep anytime soon. I live too close to "ground zero."
I probably could have gone out to the whole "4th of JulIvar's" thing if I had the inclination. It's what my unmarried self would have done. Instead, I sat at home with Grady and made sure he was okay. He's agitated and curious, but I wasn't in the mood to take any chances.
Instead I listened to all the explosions and thought about how loud and scary they were, and felt sorry for myself for not going outside to socialize with my neighbors. There are a lot of cul-de-sacs in my neighborhood, each with their own set of pyromaniacs. By this time next year I could be living somewhere else. Maybe I should have done something special this time around.
I look at Grady and feel a mix of contentedness and sadness. I didn't want a cat. I don't resent his presence -- I'm very protective of him, actually -- but I often think of picking up and leaving for an extended period, and I can't do that without upsetting him and he doesn't travel well. Poor lil' guy.
Maybe by Hallowe'en I'll stop feeling sad around major holidays. Last Hallowe'en I had to endure a dumbass-alien-themed pumpkin (carved by Garret and that tweetybird-lookin', orthopedic-shoe-wearing fuckface he stabbed me in the back with) on my porch. I still hate her so much...
But anyway, it's half-past midnight here and it still sounds like a war zone outside. It does not sound like celebration. It sounds like panic. Panic and fear and intimidation. I'm not going to sleep anytime soon. I live too close to "ground zero."
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5/7/08 17:56 (UTC)no subject
9/7/08 00:00 (UTC)And now I'll just go disappear back into the void.
~callie
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9/7/08 02:42 (UTC)