Hell is other people, especially in November

A quick note to the people in our town who are still setting off fireworks every single night, even although Guy Fawkes Night was four days ago: please, just get over it. My dog is losing his tiny mind here. I am losing my tiny mind here. Enough, already. Please.

And, you know, I get that people like fireworks. I do, really. Hell, I even like fireworks myself. The thing about fireworks, though, is that unless you’re at EPCOT, or at the Magic Kingdom (Seriously,  when the single “star” goes shooting over the top of the Cinderella castle? I could weep.), fireworks tend to get old pretty quickly for me.  Especially when they’re not even particularly interesting fireworks, but are just those monotonous old bangers that make a lot of noise without actually doing very much else. You could watch that happen maybe once or twice, and it might be kinda cool, but when it’s been happening every. single. night. for two weeks, you get to wondering whether all those loud noises done blew these people’s brains out, ya know?

Actually, to be fair, this year has been a little better than previous years, in that it’s only been going on for a couple of weeks, as opposed to the entire months of October, November and December. The problem is, though,  that people around here find bangers so very exciting and compelling that they’ll be out every night until the end of the year now, grunting and going, “BIG NOISE! WE MAKES IT! BANG!”, Rubin will be all, “Hysterical! Hysterical! Any excuse to bark my fool head off!” and I’ll be all, “whiney, whine-whine, moan, moan, moan.” Until January.

And the irony is, after the first couple of big bangs, Rubin gets used to it and shuts the hell up. I never do, though…